


Mr Hale

by SephrinaRose



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alpha Derek, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexuality, Asexuality Spectrum, BAMF Stiles, Beta Stiles, Betrayal, Blackmail, Blood, Boss Derek Hale, CEO Derek, Canonical Character Death, Cute, Dancer!Kira, Derek Has Issues, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, Derek and Stiles are Dorks, Derek is a Control Freak, Determination, Fame, Fluff, Friendship goals, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Intern!Stiles, Interns & Internships, Magazine Company, Manipulative Peter, Mild Sterek, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Photographic Memory, Publicity, Rebellious Stiles, References to Depression, Relationship Goals, Relationship Issues, Rich Derek Hale, Sassy Stiles, Scarred Stiles, Slow Build, Stiles Has Issues, Stiles fights back, Stiles was kidnapped, Stubborn Stiles, Territory Issues, Trust Issues, Violent childhood, Werewolf Scott, Werewolves, aromantic stiles, strong stiles, werewolf Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 52,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4020805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SephrinaRose/pseuds/SephrinaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was only last week that Stiles had been a completely happy college student, laying about and playing Xbox. But, now, only a few short hours later, he was known worldwide as Mr Hale's bitch.</p><p>Oh shit indeed.</p><p> </p><p>Or in which...</p><p>Stiles is a Columbia college student with photographic memory, who hates people that use and abuse others with their power. One day when he is forced to be in the same room as the King Of DickBags: Mr Hale, of Hale Magazine, he gives him a piece of his mind...only to find that it was a mistake he will regret for the rest of his life.</p><p>Or is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And this came out of nowhere. This is the TV show Suits AU (kinda) that nobody asked for.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: lmao the first chapter is so corny. Sorry about that. I'll fix it later :)

"And here we have Mr Hale's office."

Stiles didn't know what the _hell_ he was doing here. Scott had just showed up one day in his run down New York apartment - that shit was expensive - and demanded he come work with him. In the famous Hale Magazine.

Now, Stiles didn't even really know what was going on. But somehow Scott had staged him a spot on the interns list. He had just finished his finals at Columbia going strong on his Business degree. He wasn't cocky...but he knew he was going to be top of his class.

Don't ask him how he knew. You'll just have to find out later.

 

He decided to humour Scott, not seeing the harm in scoping out the fancy shmancy, security covered place... legally.

Cause everybody always wanted to be able to be inside the famous Hale Magazine Headquarters. For many reasons. While Stiles had never really taken a interest in the place despite his 5 years living in New York, every social media seemed to be tracking the rapid expansion of this business.

It was the epitome of society these days. The magazine for the highest of class. It was the new Vogue, spreading across America and worldwide. Everyone was talking about it.

Honestly, Stiles would prefer to be home with his Cheetos and Xbox. He hadn't really worried about getting a new job. His last one had fallen through in the recession, but he'd somehow managed to pay off his colleges fees by then. He figured he could get one when he finished his degree.

Stiles didn't see the need to get a knew one when he didn't need it.

He was a lazy fuck.

...and a trust fund baby.

His father had refused to take from Stiles' college fund, no matter what happened. It had apparently been a promise to his late mother, that no matter how bad things got he would never restrict Stiles' ability to have whatever future he chose.

So here he was. Surrounded by Glamour-zones decked in fake Gucci and gelled hair, playing with their lanyards between manicured fingers as they eagerly awaited the appearance of Mr Hale.

Yeah. This was the other reason why everyone wanted in to Hale Magazine.

Now, Stiles was fine the way he was. He never liked anyone in HighSchool. He'd thought he was Asexual or something.

Or maybe he just became like this after Scott's enthused rambling about his sexual relations with Allison. He was scarred for life after that. He wanted none of that, no thanks.

But, he was sure at least 86% of these girls (and guys, no sexism here) were just here to get a glimpse of the "Elusive and Sexy Mr Hale."

Mr Hale avoided spotlight like a criminal. Only showing up at public events if he had too. And when he did, it was a massive uproar of pictures of his every angle on every social media web site in existence.

Stiles knew that Mr Hale basically only went to work and home again. He didn't want to know that, but it was hard to avoid when every one of his news-feeds/dashes/anything constantly shoved it down his throat.

Everybody knew everything they could get on Mr Hale. His own magazine was like the only one in the world that didn't have a segment dedicated to him.

Even his father knew about Mr Hale. Telling him to "go for it Stiles! There is so many opportunities that could open up for you there!"

Stiles may be twenty three but nobody went against Sheriff Stilinski.

And so, here he was. But, he just planned on having a squiz and bailing. He would be fine with his Business degree and little apartment. He didn't have any of the glitz and glamour that was expected of you in this Business. He just showed up in his converse and plaid, looking every inch the college student he was.

He kept quiet as they walked through the halls, decked elegantly with dark wood and light paint. His converse moved almost silently over the carpet, but he heard some of the females struggling with with their six inch heels of the soft surface.

They reached a open area, one side of the room override floor to ceiling in glass which had a equally transparent door. Clearly this was a room..and by the black words neatly printed onto the glass....this was Mr Hale's office.

He sighed as a girl let out a little squeal at the appearance of the office...and the man that sat inside.

 

He was sitting at his dark wood desk in the centre of the overly large room (which Stiles was sure was the size of his _entire_ apartment). He didn't seem to notice the sudden group of about 10 college kids outside his door.

Stiles let his gaze wander the room, appreciating the view that spread out behind Mr Hale. This was one of the tallest buildings in New York, and this was the top floor.

God that view was fine. He guessed it was just a perk of being insanely rich and famous.

They stood there for a few moments before Mr Hale's assistant, a something Martin who seemed to have the art of walking on carpets in heels down pact, knocked gently on the glass.

His eyes snapped up, and Stiles sucked in a tiny breath....along with everyone else in his group.

Many websites had been dedicated to Mr Hale's eyes. Describing them as fierce green. Stiles could see what they meant.

His gaze was demanding. Powerful. The eyes of a man that had whatever he wanted and had people running to be stepping stones beneath his feet.

 

Stiles hated him already.

Mr Hale's gaze slipped away from them, nodding at his assistant. She looked back at them, her fiery red hair slipping over her shoulder.

"Do not speak unless spoke to, are we clear?" She said, her voice demanding assent.

The group nodded collectively, but Stiles still had a quizzical gaze on Mr Hale.

 

Ms something Martin opened the door, letting them all inside. Stiles could now feel the aura of such a powerful man, and while he instinctually straightened his back, he still was no longer impressed.

 

He hated people that used others.

...he'd been used enough to know what it felt like firsthand.

They filed in quietly, the girls trying to look attractive in their teetering heels and the guys smoothing back their hair with self-important smirks. But Stiles just stood there, hands in his pockets and gaze never leaving Mr Hale.

 

They stood in two rows. Five in the front and two at the back. He was near the front so he moved into the front row, but he shoved back by a smirking guy who's hand lingered too long on his back. Stiles let himself be discreetly shoved back, not particularly caring to make a memorable appearance.

The others smiled at Mr Hale, but Stiles only focused his un-impressed gaze on the man as they all fell into line.

 

"Mr Hale, the potential interns." Something Martin said, moving to stand next to his desk. Mr Hale swept his gaze over them, obviously taking them all in.

Stiles watched at Mr Hale eyes swept over him before backtracking. He stared at Stiles, obviously thrown by his lack of smile.

Stiles stared back, knowing he should drop his gaze not to offend the high and mighty. But he wasn't going to be treated like pretty trash like the rest would be happy to be. Mr Hale kept his gaze on Stiles, and Stiles levelled his gaze with a narrowed stare.

Mr Hale only lingered for a mother moment, before looking over at his assistant.

"What do we have here, Lydia?" Ah. That was it. Lydia.

"Three Berkeley, two Harvard, three NYU and one Columbia" Lydia said, flicking her long red hair over her shoulder as she handed Mr Hale the information.

Stiles could smell Queen Bee all over her.

Seems everyone came from all 'round to be apart of this. Such was the influence of the Hale Magazine.

Mr Hale nodded, closing his computer.

"NYU, out." He said, leaning back in his chair. It was silence for a moment. Stiles saw three people tense around him.

Ouch. That gotta hurt.

"Wh-what?" A girl cried. "Why?"

Mr Hale only turned a glare on her, and she shut up.

"It's a elimination process. You are eliminated. Goodbye." Mr Hale said, waving a hand flippantly at the door. Lydia seemed unmoved by his display of power, only taking the three out.

The rest stood shocked, but Stiles felt anger boil beneath his skin. They probably worked hard to get where they were. Just because their University wasn't as "prestigious" as the others didn't mean they were worth any less.

They had probably worked harder than Stiles had in his life. Probably worked harder than anyone here.

That was a low blow.

Stiles was sure he was going to rip Mr Hale a knew one before he ditched. Mr Hale wouldn't be able to hurt him anymore then to take his internship away from him.

And he didn't want jack-shit from this man.

He didn't know how Scott dealt with this. But, he had always been a puppy. Stiles wasn't one to roll over when somebody growled.

"Now." Mr Hale said, standing up. He reached a towering height, his fitted suit smoothing under his hands he stepped away from his desk.

"I have decided to take on internships, because we are in need of some fresh talent." Mr Hale began, and Stiles could feel the monologue approaching. "We have new competition on the market. They haven't taken much, but their sudden rise in popularity has us worried. Our sales have fallen 0.04 percent, and they haven't fallen since I began this business."

 

“Now. I base my expectations on previous successful CEO's. I particularly prefer one of Mr Pages, the CEO of Google quotes: Rule No. 1: Never lose money; Rule No. 2: Don’t forget Rule No. 1. Is that clear?” Mr Hale stated with absolute power in his voice, daring anyone to go against him.

And Stiles found that he'd had enough.

 

"Actually Sir?" Stiles voiced, as all eyes swivelled onto him. "Not to be rude.." He began, but the complete insincerity in his voice was evident to all. "But, that was a quote from Warren Buffett, the CEO of Berkshire Hathaway."

Stiles waited as the room went quiet. Would Mr Hale scream? Yell? Hit him? What was this man's preferred front towards disobedience?

"Oh?" Mr Hale said, seemingly amused as he lent on his desk. He tilted his head, seemingly watching Stiles.

Stiles wanted to rip that head right off.

"And how would you know that-" Mr Hale looked at the paper on his desk. "...Columbia?"

"My name is Stiles, Mr Hale." Stiles ground out around a plastic smile. "And I just do"

 

He felt the other interns move away from him, not wanting to get buried in the hole Stiles was digging himself into.

"You 'just do?'" Mr Hale said, finding his insolence amusing as he huffed a laugh. The other interns seemed to take it as a opportunity to get on Mr Hale's good side, laughing with him and at Stiles.

"Yes, Mr Hale. And I think I might be able to tell who said any quote you come up with." Stiles said, slouching and shoving his hands into his pockets with a dry smirk as the laughter died.

Mr Hale's eyes flashed at the challenge. Stiles knew his type. He would try to destroy Stiles now, embarrass him and send him with his tail between his legs.

But Stiles never lost.

 

"Okay then, Columbia." Mr Hale said with his own smirk. "I'll have you know I base my life on these principles. Let's see what you've got."

Stiles smirk only grew.

“High expectations are the key to absolutely everything.” Mr Hale said, sitting back in his chair again as he started at Stiles, goading him.

"Sam Walton, Walmart" Stiles deflected, now standing alone as the other interns scampered away from the heat of Mr Hale's glare.

“In business, what’s dangerous is not to evolve.” Mr Hale said, now throughly intrigued.

"Jeff Bezos" Stiles answered immediately. "Amazon" Mr Hale's eyes narrowed, and Stiles vaguely heard one of the remaining females whimper slightly.

"Alright, Columbia. Let's up the ante" he said. "If you want to make enemies, try to change something."

"President Woodrow Wilson, Mr Hale." Stiles was almost beaming now. God this felt good.

"No man has a good enough memory to be a successful liar." Mr Hale spat, amusement gone.

"President Abraham Lincoln." Stiles said. "Except you will find that I do." Mr Hale's mouth curled up into a sneer.

"What would that be, Columbia?"

"I do have a good enough memory, sir." Stiles said with a shrug, used to this whole process. He'd faced enough dickheads in his time to know the way it worked. He lifted a hand, tapping his skull with one finger.

"Photographic memory, Sir." He said, before ripping off his intern lanyard from around his neck and chucking it carelessly on Mr Hale's desk.

"Now, please shove that up your asshole. I'm out"

And then he turned, and walked away. Swaying his hips with a piercing grin on his lips as he slammed the glass door shut behind him

And his smirk only grew when he heard the distinctive _crack_ of the glass cracking around the doors handle, a small laugh escaping his lips as he disappeared down the hall.

 

  
........

 

Stiles was once again swanning around his little apartment, eating conspicuous amounts of ice cream and playing "too much" Xbox.

"No, Scott! There is no such thing as too much Xbox!"

"There is when you should be here at work trying to win this internship!"

"How you betray me my brother!" Stiles cried out melodramatically. "And besides, that Hale is a dickbag anyway."

"But he's my boss." Scott sighed.

"Yeah!" Stiles, said gesticulating with his spoon. "I have seriously begun to question your career situation, my bro. You should totally ditch and work in my business when I finish my degree!"

"Stiles." Scott sighed. "Ask me again when you've actually got your business running and useful enough to pay me decently."

"Yeah, yeah. Loser."

"Says the one at home alone on a Friday."

"...screw you." Stiles muttered.

"Thanks bud, but I have to-" and then Scott cut off and Stiles heard a scuffle. "Oh shit. Mr Hale's leaving the premises. Oh my god, he has to walk past my cubicle. I gotta go!" He stage whispered, and Stiles smirked.

 

"Hey, dickhead!!" Stiles yelled into the phone, hoping Mr Asshole would hear him. He laughed manically when Scott hung up on him.

He stretched backwards, his Beacon Hills Sheriff Department t-shirt ridding up and his pyjama pants slipping off his hips.

He huffed as he stopped stretching, standing up and hitching his pj pants back up to rest on his hips. He moved towards his little kitchen, taking his empty ice cream container with him. He scratched his head as he stepped on the little pedal to lift his bins lid, dropping the empty container that had once been filled with his sweet, icy love.

He sucked on the spoon as he zombie-d over to the freezer, opening the door to reveal another seven pints of ice-cream. He sighed, wondering how much he was going to have to work out to burn it off.

And then the doorbell rang.

Now, Stiles didn't get many visitors. Half the time it was Scott and the rest it was Mrs Mleeny from across the hall in his wonderfully tiny apartment complex.

He continued to suck on his spoon as he walked over to the door, expecting the sweet old face of Mrs Mleeny at his door.

What he didn't expect was Mr Hale.

 

He stared for a good minute at the man from his doorway, looking so out of place in his real Gucci suit and piercing gaze.

"..what the _hell_ are you doing here." Stiles gaped, taking the spoon from his mouth. Mr Hale's eyes slid up and down his messy appearance, and Stiles hitched up his pants with one hand again self-consciously.

"Do you seriously not know?" Mr Hale thundered.

Stiles looks at him, seriously contemplating slamming the door on his face and just not dealing with him.

"If it's about the glass, I don't-"

"It's not the _glass_ , idiot. It's this!" Mr Hale said, sliding a smart phone from his pocket and shoving it in Stiles' face.

Stiles grabbed his wrist to pull it far enough away so he could read the text on the screen.

" _Mr Hale from Hale Magazine has been 'cracked' by a Columbia College Student_!" It screamed in bold. Stiles scrolled to see a complete story on the matter. And to see it was trending worldwide.

"Oh shit."

"Yes 'oh shit' one of the interns was a spy from our rival magazine!" Mr Hale yelled, snatching the phone back.

Stiles stood there, gaze un-focused.

"They know who you are and where to find you, Columbia. They have your picture too." Mr Hale said, his narrowed gaze pinning Stiles like a butterfly.

"Oh my god." Stiles moaned, leaning against his door frame heavily.

 

"I will not let you ruin my companies image."

"Well it's a bit late for that." Stiles managed through his shock, not forgetting how much he hated this man.

"Not really, Columbia. If I show I still have power over you it will reinforce my authority." Mr Hale's face turned into a smirk.

"You don't have anything over me, asshole." Stiles said, pushing at the man's chest in his sudden anger.

The man didn't budge, snatching his wrists from his chest and holding them in one hand.

 

"Yes I do, actually." He said, barely audible over the growl coming from his chest. "I'm making you join my company."

Stiles stood shocked once again in the span of five minutes.

"You seem to be mistaken, Mr Hale" Stiles said, coming back to himself and looking completely unimpressed. "I have no desire to join your firm." Stiles ripped his hands from the older man's grasp.

But then Mr Hale's smile got even bigger.

"I'll fire Scott McCall if you don't." He said, and Stiles' heart dropped out of his chest.

"...you wouldn't _dare_."

"I think you find I would." Mr Hale preened.

"Screw you, Hale. I hate you." He hissed, trying the slam the door on the man but he'd shoved his foot in the door.

Stiles was no longer in control. He hated being taken over and pushed beneath another.

He _hated_ it.

 

"Hate me all you want, but you're being my personal intern."

"You are unbelievable." Stiles yelled, wanting nothing more than to punch the man that was slowly ruining his life.

"Believe whatever you want, Columbia. But you are _my_ bitch now." Stiles clawed at him uselessly at the name, seeing red. "See you on Monday in office at 7."

And then Mr Hale was gone.

And Stiles was screaming profanities down the hall.

 

........

 

Monday came too quickly for Stiles.

 

Hale had announced publicly that he would be taking in the smart mouthed Columbia Student, a smirk on his face saying that he had no trouble subduing the boy and would do anything to anyone else that tried the same.

Stiles had seen it on all his social medias.

He'd immediately deleted them all. Along with all the new messages trying to convince him to come on their talk show or even some asking him invasive questions about if he had anyone to shut that mouth for him, and if not they would like to be the one to do it.

He wanted to vomit.

He'd gone from completely happy college student to be known worldwide as Mr Hale's bitch

...His dad was going to flip.

 

But Monday came roaring in with its usual grace.

Stiles tried to dress nice this time, feeling completely swallowed by the aura that was Mr Hale. But, he still had enough spark left to wear his beloved converse on his feet. It looked kinda strange with his suit.

But if Hale was going to force him to work for him, Stiles was going to make it the worse decision of his life.

He walked out of his apartment, going to walk the short distance to work...when he was suddenly surrounded by cameras and flashes and yells of "How do you feel about your first day of work for Mr Hale?"

Stiles felt the familiar pang of the beginnings of a panic attack when somebody parted the crowd and snatched him from it.

He hardly saw who it was through the crowd but then he was thrown into a black tinted car. He shrunk down in his seat as the tore away from the curb, already feeling exhausted.

 

He looked over next to him to find Lydia Martin fixing her hair, obviously frazzled from dragging him from the horde of publicity.

"Mr Hale thought you might need a lift." Was all Lydia gave as explanation.

Stiles sneered.

"I still hate him." Stiles muttered stubbornly, smoothing down his only good suit. Lydia laughed, high and tinkling.

"Don't we all."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let go of me." Stiles growled, staring into Jackson all too close eyes. Jackson's grin widened as his ego inflated with his power over Stiles.
> 
> "I think not, Stilinski." Stiles narrowed his gaze.
> 
> And then Jackson was on the ground, groaning and holding his side. Stiles leant over him, shoving him onto his back with his foot as he gingerly rubbed his sore wrists. He stared into Jackson pain and hate filled eyes.
> 
> Seems his made a new enemy on his first day of work. Joy.
> 
> "I'm a Sheriff's son, Whittemore, Don't mess with me." He spat, before stepping over the man and straightening his suit as he walked out of the bathroom. He picked up his dropped items just outside the door, slipping over to the elevator and swiping his new card.
> 
> God, he was so late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally squealing with the amount of Kudos and Comments and Bookmarks I've gotten in the past 24 hours. So here a little more of Mr Hale.
> 
> Just a side note: I'm not American. I don't know much about Manhattan or New York. The closest I have to any sort of knowledge is my Capitalism in America History class. 
> 
> Correct any mistakes I have if you don't mind, my Amercian readers.

Stiles arrived in the HQ. Although he wouldn't say arrived. That was too gentle a word.

He'd say dragged kicking and screaming.

He knew that Lydia's manicured fingernails were leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin. God, them things were sharp. He was marched along with Lydia, walking into the collection of lower staff office cubicles in order to reach the elevator.

Silence immediately fell.

He felt eyes on him as they watched him pass. Stiles tried to ignore their gazes as he searched for Scott in their masses.

 

He hoped Scott appreciated this. He was basically a servant now to the biggest tycoon in history. A tycoon who still refused to acknowledge him as a human being. So far he'd only been referred to as Columbia, idiot or bitch.

His name was Stiles. Stiles _f*cking_ Stilinski. That was his name now. Like, geeze, he could have said his real name, but he had the good grace of making it easier for others to pronounce. And yet Hale still refused to refer to him as anything else.

He wasn't Columbia or idiot or bitch. He was a fricken human being with his own name and own identity. He wasn't going to be consumed by Mr Hale. He wasn't going to be held down by the chains of Mr Hale's forced servitude for Scott, or by Mr Hale's hand around Stiles' mouth from where he sat at his feet. Stopping any sound.

He was almost literally chained to sit beneath Mr Hale now. He was in every way apart from physically. He didn't doubt that if the law allowed it Mr Hale would take away all his freedom, and physically chain him to his desk or some medieval shit.

Stiles wasn't going to be the kid that was like "you can't do that!" Because he knew better. Because Mr Hale in fact, _could_. He could do anything he wanted. He hated that Mr Hale could just do that.

If Stiles was going to be held down, he was going to be doing it kicking and screaming. Hopefully getting the King Of DickBags right in the face with a Converse clad foot.

Ah yes.

 

He was going to make this Mr Hale's worst decision ever. So him that he wasn't his bitch. That he was still a human being with rights and a family and a life outside this business.

He set a winning smile on the people that openly glared at him as he passed. He could tell that he was envied. They had been trying to win Mr Hale's attention.

But, if he could, he'd give them his spot as personal boot licker. People like that kinda thing,apparently. But he didn't have that power.

Shame.

Lydia gracefully (?) dragged him towards the elevator, swiping the lanyard on her neck to open the elevator. As it opened she forced Stiles inside, shutting him in and forcing him to get that little bit closer to Hale.

 

"Where would you like to go?" A mechanical voice asked, making Stiles jump. He was pretty sure it had done that last time he was here. But his wasn't exactly in his zone right now, and he was a little delicate.

Sue him.

"Mr Hale, please." Lydia said, clear and practiced.

He waited in the elevator, tapping his foot annoyingly but whimpering when Lydia dug her nails through his suit and into the skin of his forearm. When the door opened Lydia for virtually dragged him out and he just went along, head down like he was awaiting his death.

Okay, Stiles. Bit melodramatic there.

Stiles was taken past the high members of the firm, their snobby noses turned up at him. He knew most of these people too. Especially the Ms Blake lady that was super creepy. He'd seen her on Mr Hale's arm at the last public meeting that Hale went to.

God, she made his skin crawl.

They walked up the hallway that Stiles had gone through when he first came here. The hallway that separated Hale from the rest.

Stiles felt his mouth curl up as they walked, unable to help himself at this mans display of power. He was seriously so sick of all the "look at me I'm better than you" shit.

But then he saw the glass that separated Stiles from Hale, and the biggest grin stretched across his face.

The door handle was taped with ugly ass duck tape, ruining the pristine image Mr Hale upheld.

 

It felt so good to know he'd been the one to make it that way. 

He virtually skipped towards the door, Lydia opening it gently as Hale's eyes followed them. Stiles gloated, floating into the room, wiping his hand lovingly on the duct tape that was so much more familiar to him than the rest of this shiny ass shit.

Hello, friend.

 

Lydia pushed him closer to Mr Hale who only watched him with his usual cool gaze.

"Wassup, Hale." He said. Mood skyrocketing at the very obvious damage Stiles had already made on Mr Hale's life.

He was off to a awesome start.

Hale: 0, Stiles: 1

 

He sat down heavily on the black leather couch, tossing his worn shoulder bag next to him as he grinned like the little shit he was.

Mr Hale narrowed his eyes at him, before turning to Lydia.

"You are dismissed. " he said shortly, and she smiled like a shark as she walked back out the door and to her small desk just at the end of the hall, where she could intercept anyone that came into Mr Hale's zone.

Then his gaze turned back to Stiles.

Stiles smile was almost maniacal.

Because while Hale had control over him, he could still do whatever he wanted and Hale couldn't let him go. They were stuck with each other.

Hale just didn't know how annoying Stiles could be. He considered it a gift.

Everyone else...not so much.

 

"So..." Stiles drawled. "What you got big man?"

"Are you always like this?" Hale said speaking for the first time.

"Only in the presence of assholes." Stiles said, tilting his head mockingly, smile never leaving his lips.

Mr Hale frowned.

"I don't accept disobedience, Columbia. I expect better from you."

"Well you took me from my happy life, you get the full package." Stiles gestured to himself with a flippant gesture, swinging his feet up to rest them on the dark coffee table.

He watched as Mr Hale's eyes narrowed in on his grungy converse.

"What the hell are they?"

"They are Converse, prick. The fashion for normal people, which I wouldn't expect you to know about since you only seem to shop in upper Manhattan."

"I meant what are they doing in my office."

"Well, they are on my feet. And I'm in your office."

"...Columbia." Hale growled.

"What?" Stiles asked innocently.

"Get rid of them now." Stiles felt a little tremor of fear run through him at the lowered voice.

But he didn't let it show.

 

"Well, I don't seem to have any spares. So your just going to have to deal."

Hale evidently had enough. He growled as he slammed his desk drawer open, grabbing something out of it before standing up and advancing on Stiles.

Stiles feet were forced off the coffee table with Mr Hale's hand pushing his calves until they fell. Stiles looked up at Hale. The man glowered down at him.

And then there was two crisp hundred dollar bills in his face.

Stiles blanched at the money. It had been a long time since he had seen so much money and so clean as well. America had paper money, and that shit got dirty.

Of course Mr Hale's money all came fresh from a bank. Dickbag.

"Go get yourself some new shoes, Columbia." Stiles narrowed his eyes, slitting them at Hale.

"My name is Stiles. And what if just run away?"

Derek had that hateful grin on again.

"Because if you don't come back by 9am I will fire McCall and keep you here for the rest of your life."

"I hate you so very much." Stiles hissed, snatching the bills and scrunching them out of spite.

"I hate you too. Off you go." Hale said, and Stiles felt like he was a dog being dismissed with a tap of its bum. Stiles snatched his bag and stormed out, wanting to throw his shoes through the damn glass.

Maybe he should pick up a brick on his way back, and throw that through the damn fancy ass glass wall.

Screw the consequences.

 

.........

 

Stiles barely made it back inside with his new $180 shoes by nine o'clock. He had legitimately run through Manhattan to get back in time, he was sweaty and tired and he was already _so done_ with today.

 So of course when he arrived back in the office he was suddenly shoved from behind and pushed into the bathroom he was walking past, dropping his bags as he was manhandled.

Everything stopped moving when Stiles was slammed into the wall next to the rich people bathroom ornament. And he was faced with the intern that had shoved him on the first day to get into the front line. With his gelled blonde hair and rich (but not as rich as Hale) guy suit.

And the angry scowl on his face.

Jackson Something. Harvard.

 

"You think you're tough shit, don't you Stilinski?" Jackson snarled in his face, holding Stiles wrists against the wall. "Just because Mr Hale had to take you in."

Stiles was well versed in this whole routine. He'd been in his fair share of fights, he'd just expected better of this place. And of Harvard, seriously. But it seemed that assholes could be found anywhere.

"I think you will find I am tough shit, Whittemore." He snarled back, trying to shove the other man by twisting his body. But the man didn't loosen his bruising grip on his wrists, only shoving him back against the wall.

Stiles pet peeve against suppressive assholes reared its ugly head. He hated Derek, but now he officially hated this guy too. He was literally holding Stiles down.

"Let go of me." Stiles growled, staring into Jackson all too close eyes. Jackson's grin widened as his ego inflated with his power over Stiles.

"I think not, Stilinski." Stiles narrowed his gaze.

And then Jackson was on the ground, groaning and holding his side. Stiles leant over him, shoving him onto his back with his foot as he gingerly rubbed his sore wrists. He stared into Jackson pain and hate filled eyes.

Seems his made a new enemy on his first day of work. Joy.

"I'm a Sheriff's son, Whittemore, Don't mess with me." He spat, before stepping over the man and straightening his suit as he walked out of the bathroom. He picked up his dropped items just outside the door, slipping over to the elevator and swiping his new card.

God, he was so late.

 

........

 

"You know, you'd think with the fancy and sophisticated atmosphere this place is supposed to emit would somehow brush off on its employees." Stiles stated as he walked into Hale's office.

"You are late, Columbia." Was all the man said, typing something up. Stiles chucked his purchases on the couch with his shoulder bag. He rubbed his wrists as he sat down carefully, careful of the forming bruise on the bottom of his spine.

The adrenaline was fading now, and Stiles could feel every bump and bruise from his encounter with Jackson.

"I was here on time, but you know, I got jumped in the bathroom."

Mr Hale's eyes snapped up at his words, looking into his eyes before down at where Stiles was rubbing his wrists. He seemed shocked.

Stiles couldn't deny the small comfort that it gave.

"Who?"

Stiles smiled a little, dragging this out.

 

"Ah, just some asshole. You guys probably make great friends, actually. You could bond over your asshole-ness." 

Hale's face fell back into that seemingly permanent scowl.

"I asked you who, Columbia. Not an evaluation on my personality."

"You can't expect me to suddenly get to be your personal slave without some anger from the others that have dreamt about it for years?"

"People want to be my bitch?" Derek said with some amusement.

Stiles scowled at him. Fine, two could play at that game.

"Some people would stoop so low for a DickBag like you, but only decent people are happy with normal employment. I don't want to be your bitch, Hale. You just have some equally asshole-y people like you that dream about it." Stiles said. "But you already knew that seeing all the people you trample over everyday."

"I don't trample over people."

"Me, you do. But your business does to a lot of people. You shut down other firms with your business and make people loose jobs all over the world." Stiles said.

"But I let them join my company." Hale said, turning away from looking at his injuries to begin typing again on his computer.

Yes. Diversion was working.

 

"Yeah, only the mindless college graduates that just want the status of working for you."

"That's just the way the world works."

"Is that another one of your CEO quotes?" Stiles asked, before feinting surprise. "Oh, wait no. It isn't, because I don't know it."

"You think you're so smart."

"Now you're sounding like the asshole in the bathroom. He said almost the exact same thing. And do you know what I said?" Stiles asked. Hale didn't reply, only watching him.

"I said not to mess with me, and then I decked him." Stiles said, smiling at the memory of putting another asshole in his place. If only he could take Hale down a peg or two.

"You 'decked' him?" Hale said, tasting the word.

"Yeah, sorry to use a word not in your rich dude vocabulary, but it means I got him off me and onto the 'deck' as you would say."

"He was on you?"

"Oh yeah. All up against the wall too. Asshole move, hey?"

"What happened to your wrists?" Stiles narrowed his eyes, catching on. Damnit. Derek could do the roundabout thing too.

Shit.

Hale: 1, Stiles: 1

Hale seemed to realise Stiles had caught on, and he grinned that asshole grin which seemed to be his only kind of grin.

"Screw you, Hale."

"Thankyou for your information." Hale said, before leaning back to access his desk. He hitched out a stack of papers about a foot high and put them on his desk.

He stood and picked them up. Stiles watched as he walked over and slammed them down on the coffee table in front of Stiles.

"Now, I've decided to make use of you and your photographic memory. I want these memorised by 1pm." Stiles gaped. He may have a photographic memory, but that didn't mean he wanted to sit and read over 500 pages of _tiny_ size 8 print.

He opened his mouth to refuse, but Hale shut him up by speaking.

"Oh, and while you're at it, I want you to burn those converse." Hale said as he walked back to his desk. "Or I will."

Stiles wanted to scream.

Hale:2, Stiles:1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: any ideas for how you guys want this story to go would be appreciated. Have a idea but I want to see if you guys have any cool/sassy interactions between Stiles and Derek that you think would go well in this, or any ideas at all. Let me know~
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee runs.
> 
> Freaking coffee runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Character~
> 
> I've taken some reviews into consideration. I know Stiles is a little bit of a prick and a couch potato, but he's like that for a reason. Character development people! If he was perfect, I would have nothing to work with otherwise. 
> 
> Besides, you finds out why he's like that next chapter. :.(
> 
> Enjoy!!

Coffee runs.

Freaking _coffee runs_.

The dreaded things could only come second to Hale's dickbaggieness. Yes. He made that word up. Sue him.

He was frick'n running back and forth from Hale's.

It had been a week since the incident with Jackson. Hale still didn't know anything, and Stiles knew he would want answers soon. But Hale, along with everyone else...was thinking out something else. And that something was this months addition of Hale magazine.

Due for publishing next week.

He was carrying Hale's bucket loads or paperwork. And it was getting worse, because of this impending release.

Hale was everywhere, and Stiles was his shadow.

Hale wasn't sleeping. Stiles didn't want to know anything more then he had too, but it was evident that Hale and sleep, were not getting on right now.

So that was why Stiles was running to Hale' favourite coffee shop and back three times a day.

The press still hassled him, but Derek had bared his economical teeth at them and only the seriously wealthy new companies could get near him or Hale's company. Because they were willing to risk Hale's wrath to get something good from them.

It made sense though. Everyone wanted to know everything about him now. His whole life story. He turned on his TV the other day to find his much hated HighSchool Chemistry teacher, Mr Harris, outing him on TV for his five minutes of fame.

He still hated that bastard.

But not as much as coffee runs. Because not only did he have to run - ew, by the way - but he had to smell the delicious coffee while not being able to drink from it or have any. And excuse me, but Stiles was tired too.

He was The Shadow. The superhero that just followed Hale around. It was actually sad. Sadder than the fact that the only superhero he was going to be was a freaking Shadow. Yay.

Stiles was getting so far in life.

He was currently running to Green Point coffee shop, for their seriously overpriced double shot expresso latte with cream, no sugar. Stiles had that one firmly engraved in his awesome memory. He wasn't sure he was ever going to be able to forget it.

But he was running, trying to make it before it closed for the night. He was honked as he ran across the road, and he screamed an apology back as he kept running, his shoulder bag's strap digging into his chest as it thumped rhythmically against his hip with every step.

He seriously needed to up his exercise.

...maybe he should get a gym membership. Although, he would much prefer to live the Homer Simpson lifestyle. Donuts and zero-to-none exercise.

But, that apparently wasn't going to happen.

Because Hale Magazine existed.

 

Stiles sighed explosively as he shoved more power into his legs, running faster. He knew Hale was on a string-thread patience right now. He almost shoved one of the other interns out the window of the 70th story earlier.

He, Jackson and another girl were the only interns left...No surprise there.

But he knew if he didn't return with Hale's favourite coffee to calm him, Stiles was going to be thrown out the window of the 80th, Hale's floor.

No questions asked. Just "bye bye Stiles, it hasn't been fun".

He ran up to the place, his suit chaffing and his legs burning, to find it closed. He dashed up to the window, looking imploringly inside.

A girl inside looked over from cleaning the bench, her green apron dirty and she looked even more tired then him. Stiles felt guilty for even insinuating that he wanted her to make just one more coffee. But, she must have seen the fear in his eyes and she sighed, walking over to open the door.

Stiles raced up to the door and slipped in when she unlocked it.

"Oh my god. Thank you so much. Thankyou thankyou thankyou." He cried, almost collapsing inside.

She only smiled tiredly. "I'm guessing this coffee isn't for you?"

"What was the hint?" Stiles grinned. She just shook her head, moving over to the cashier machine.

"What coffee does your boss want?" She asked, logging herself in with coffee stained fingers.

"Double Expresso Latte with cream, no sugar." He recited in his deepest voice, lifting his shoulders to impersonate his favourite person in the world.

...His sarcasm was overpowering when he was tired.

The girl actually laughed. Stiles took comfort in it. He hadn't met anyone that didn't know who he was or everything about him recently. Even the Taxi Drivers asked him questions.

It was nice to know that he was still a nobody to some people. He never liked being a nobody in high school, but now he relished in it.

"$10.90 please." She said as though she couldn't believe the price either. "And the names Kira."

Stiles smiled fishing out Hale's credit card, taking pleasure in the amount the was draining for it...even if Hale made about seven times the amount every minute.

"Stiles." Stiles said with a smile, swiping the card.

Kira moved to make the coffee, the machines whirring filling the quiet. "So, who's your boss?"

"Mr Hale." He said, with a grimace. She replicated his expression, smiling through it.

"Ah, so your that Stilinski everyone stalks." She said as she reached up to get the cream she's put away. Stiles noticed a bruise on her lower back as she moved, but he averted his gaze.

He knew what it was like to have people asking about your injuries even when it had nothing to do with them.

"Sure am, unfortunately. It's not fun when everyone knows you." He admitted, liking her attitude towards Hale and the rest of nosy society.

And he decided he liked her.

"Well, sorry to tell you the only reason I don't know much about you is because I just moved here."

"Ah. I'm over it really. But how you finding the city that never sleeps?"

"Well, I'm glad that they don't all need my coffee to stay awake. Otherwise I'd be here all the time." She grinned, before sighing. "This is not really where I imagined myself."

Stiles tiled his head invitingly, enough a invitation to continue but not making her feel the need to share.

But she did anyway.

"I came here to dance. I'm trying to get enough money so I can enter the New York Ballet Academy." She admitted.

"Oh cool! You look like a ballerina."

"You think so?" She said, doing a little twirl in the kitchen, pouring Hale's coffee into a cup and grinning at him.

"Definitely." He said, his own grin spreading across his face. It was nice to be genuinely happy, to want to smile because he was happy.

"Well, it was nice to chat, Stiles." She said, popping a top on Hale's drink.

"It was nice to meet you, Kira." He said, taking the glass as she walked him to the door. He tuned to look at her as he was stepping out down the step into the darkening city.

"Go for it. Do anything you want." He said, watching her carefully. "Don't let anyone stop you."

She was silent for a moment, looking into his eyes.

"Thank you, Stiles." She said quietly, reaching up to pat him on the head affectionately. He smiled back, the mood suddenly less serious between them.

"See you 'round." He said as he stepped away from the shop. She smiled and waved.

"Byeee!" She cried as he started to run back towards Hale's, her voice following him down the street.

And Stiles felt lighter than he had in a long time.

 

...........

 

"Columbia?" He heard, his face buried into some damn article he was memorising.

"Yeah, your majesty?"

"Where is that money I lent you for those shoes?" Hale questioned, and Stiles had honestly forgotten about it.

 

He reached into the side of his bag where the remainder of the money was, where he'd left it and forgotten it.

"Oops." He said. Standing up from his nook and walking over to Hale. The man had calmed down reasonably when Stiles came back with his coffee.

Lydia had almost thrown him into the office, her hair frazzled from dealing with a coffee deprived something Hale.

Yea. Stiles knew almost nothing about the man he was working for. No media page called him anything apart from Mr Hale.

He knew it started with like a D or R...or something, he honestly didn't know.

He put that away in his brain to google when he got home. Maybe if he actually looked him up, his much loved Wikipedia will give him answers. He loved Wikipedia, man. It was sad that it wasn't seen to be a reliable source for collage papers though.

The world was cruel, and discriminating against perfectly reasonable websites. Only Wikipedia could give him the full history of the male circumcision.

That shit was valuable. He knew it deep inside him that someday it was going to become useful in his life. Just you wait.

 

Stiles walked up to the desk with scrunched money. He stood before Hale as the man leant back and sipped his latte.

"Why didn't you give it to me earlier?" The CEO asked.

"Ah...I forgot?" Hale gave him a deadpan look.

"How does the one with photographic memory forget" He asked, but it was missing the lift of tone that signified a question. He was doubting this guys use of question marks.

Typical move of a dude that thought he was about asking for anything. Or that he was above asking for permission.

Hm.

"I'm human, you know!" Stiles sighed. He was still tired as hell. It was nearing 9pm, but he hadn't been allowed to leave yet. Hale liked to stay late to make sure everything was in order. And, so his personal crew had to stay too.

....He didn't need sleep anyway.

"Human or not, I hired you for your memory. Use it properly." Stiles dropped the money on the desk, wanting to throw it at him. But if he did that Hale was going to throw him.

So he dropped it like a perfectly reasonable human being.

"You didn't hire me for my memory. You hired me to control me." Stiles grumbled, waiting to be dismissed back to his nook like a good puppy.

"Is that what you think?" Hale said, sipping his coffee leisurely.

"Ah, yeah? I don't think I could take 'You're my bitch' any other way." Stiles groaned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and the headache developing from simply talking to the man.

"So why didn't I put you in a corner and left you there?"

Stiles pondered, dropping the hands from his eyes as he groaned like a old and complaining truck, guttural and deep.

"Well I am in a corner." Stiles said, pointing in the general direction of his desk.

"In my personal office."

"Urgh. I don't know! Cause I'm pretty or something?" Hale grinned like he got something he wanted.

"That's what you think." Stiles groaned again.

"Can I go? What do you want?" He asked, completely done with everything. Hale shrugged, looking over the rim of his cup at Stiles.

"Maybe I'm appreciating the view." Stiles stared at him, curling his lip as he tired to think of something

"Shut up." Stiles spat, finding nothing and found himself pissed because of it.

Hale:3, Stiles:1

"Alright, off you go. Go home." Hale seemed pleased with his victory.

"Screw you!" He hissed, stalking over to get his stuff. He threw his bag around his body and grabbed his suit jack from the back of his chair.

He stomped towards the door, almost missing as Hale replied to his outburst.

"No thanks."

Stiles slammed the newly repaired glass door shut, and became even more pissed when it closed softly.

Screw Hale and his anti-slamming doors.

Screw everything.

 

Stiles needed a f*cking bath.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That was the most terrifying moment. Realising I was powerless. Realising I was too weak to stop him. That he was going to do whatever he wanted. We were trapped, oppressed by him, with no way out. Between a deadbolt and the rest of the world."
> 
> "He grabbed me by the throat as he made my mother do what he wanted. I remember her screaming for him not to hurt me, screaming for mercy. Screaming for him to not hurt her little boy. And then I remembered the blinding pain."
> 
> Stiles lifted the front of his shirt, exposing his torso to just above his belly button. Where the thick, vertical scar ran from his pants up to just below his belly button.
> 
> "He stabbed me with a knife. He shoved it three inches deep inside me, right here. Then he dropped me, leaving me to die on the floor as he advanced on my mother. I was bleeding out, surrounded by my mother's screams and cries for my agony and her own."
> 
> "...and then he killed her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, his chapter his heavy. Tread carefully please. Let me know if you want me to make his backstory a little less horrific, I was just trying to leave my options open for his future. Remember this fic is rated T.
> 
> Thanks. Please be careful. This chapter is not supposed to be happy, but it has a happy ending.
> 
> Triggers: Reference to sexual and physical abuse. Vague but still there!

To say that work was shit was a understatement.

Stiles hadn't worked this hard since his last job. Stiles had never really worked hard for much, given his natural abilities.

He knew now. He knew the merits of hard work. Because even with his intelligence and memory, he was being pushed to his limits. He was tired and cranky. Hale was pushing him around for his own enjoyment.

But, as it was...it was starting to grow on him.

It was still barely his first month with Hale Magazine, but while Hale still made him want to scream and hit something, the others there weren't so bad.

Lydia, he liked especially. She was beautiful and had a firecracker for a personality. She respected Hale (something Stiles still couldn't manage to get his head around) but she wasn't afraid to tell him off. But, what made it amazing was that she hid her spiteful words in all this professional talk. Blazing in and putting everything into a confusing perspective before leaving the room, making everything make sense while also raising so many other questions.

It was awesome.

 

Stiles may be in love...he didn't doubt that he would be, if it hadn't been for his apparent asexuality. He didn't think he was asexual. He could appreciate beauty and be attracted to it.

But it was easier to tell people he was asexual than to say the real reason why he didn't take anything past the attraction stage.

Because with relationships came intimacy...came sex.

And it was hard to explain to people that it completely and utterly terrified him. Because he was man. He wasn't allowed to be afraid of it. He had to be strong and manly. Should be the comforter not the comfortee.

He had to be his stereotype.

And he just couldn't.

 

So yeah, he hid behind being 'asexual'. It was easier that way.

 

But that was hardly one of the problems he needed to be thinking about. He'd come to terms with never feeling the love of another when he was nine....under unmentionable circumstances.

But he was starting to appreciate the way Lydia handled Hale. He'd decided that he was going to become her apprentice in the art that he'd dubbed "How to keep Hale from being as bastard."

She didn't know Stiles was her apprentice. But, semantics.

He would feel complete the day he had Hale look at him like he looked at Lydia when she dished out one of her speeches. Looked at him with respect. Acknowledging him as a human being. As his own man.

That Stiles was worthy of his respect.

Because he had a feeling his job was going to be long term. He was going to have to learn a thing or two.

So he actually paid attention. Yes, wow. Stiles Stilinski was paying attention. But, it was worth it. He was bringing to understand how Hale worked. When he could push his buttons and when he should vacate the man's office...where he know had a little nook where he kept his "things". His things were literally a pen and the billions of stacks of paper Hale was having him memorise.

His brain hurt. He'd never thought I could be possible. But brains had the ability to hurt.

It was one of the very few things he'd never wanted to know. Because Stiles wanted to know almost everything.

Just...laziness. It was the bane of his existence.

His grades were being posted soon. He was still pretty confident he'd done well, despite his minimal study. But after realising that he could have done so much more, he was a little bit concerned. This job had opened his eyes.

 

Because sometimes hard work was really worth it.

 

He hadn't really found any reward for his work at this stage. But he was learning that the small things were what made it. Just the feeling being able to walk out into the sun after a hard day in the office. To sit down on the couch when he when got him, knowing he earned it.

It was nice.

...He was finally beginning to understand more about his mom.

 

But, yeah. Despite all the "yay, I'm staring to get a grip on life or some shit" work was a thorn in his ass. His memory was being stretched to its limit, Hale still called him 'Columbia' and his back hurt from carrying shit for Hale. Because not only did he want his brain, Hale made use of his apparent slavery.

So yeah, he was pretty a sure that accounted towards being shit. He knew he didn't have it as bad as he could. He wasn't chained to the dude in a physical sense. He got paid - wow, man - and he was allowed to come home.

And coming home was the best feeling ever.

Stiles was walking home now, the darkness of night putting him a little on edge. He didn't like the dark. Not when he knew what it hid.

Hale was in a horrible mood today, so his stress meter was off the charts. He had to mostly avoid talking all of the day, and Stiles sucked at not talking.

He had to leave the room to vent at Lydia every hour or so. But, she was busy too. He still hadn't seen Scott, but Stiles was the dude was avoiding him since becoming Hale's bitch. Stiles didn't know what Hale was holding against Scott. But he hoped it wasn't as bad as what he was holding against Stiles.

Stiles didn't mind. He planned on checking in to his and Allison's apartment to see how they both were, out of the reach of Hale.

He was pretty sure they were going to get engaged soon. It warmed his heart to know that Scott and Allison could still find a love so pure in this world.

And when they finally tied the knot, Stiles knew he wasn't going to let anything get between them. Not like his mom and dad.

He'd been protecting Scott most of his life. He wasn't about to stop any time soon.

Hell. He was suffering blackmail so Scott could keep his much needed job. He couldn't wait to remind Scott of his awesome bro-ness. He wanted some appreciation for his sacrifice, thank you very much.

 

He was feeling like he needed to buy some more ice cream when he heard a whimper from within the dark, barely a mile from his house.

Stiles frowned, seriousness overcoming his face as he decided to investigate. He crept over to the source, keeping his footsteps light as to not alert anyone incase this was some sick trap.

He rounded a corner, going into a dark alley.

Only to see Kira sitting on the dirty alleyway floor, curled up in a corner.

"Kira?" He whispered, having not seen the girl for ages. She hadn't been working at the coffee shop every time he went there. But then again, Hale's consumption had lessened.

The girl flinched at his voice, curling up tighter as though she could hide herself. Stiles wasn't offended, though. She was reacting off instinct. It wasn't her fault.

He wanted to know who's fault it was, though.

"Kira?" He said again, moving closer and crouching down to her height to not seem threatening. She looked up finally, fear clear in her eyes despite the dark.

Recognition flickered in her eyes.

"Stiles?" She whispered, his voice cracking. Stiles winced. He knew that It meant she'd been screaming.

He moved closer until they were in touching distance, but he didn't touch her. He would wait until she touched him.

 

There were some things that you just didn't do, and this was one of them. Because you don't go up and touch somebody after they had been attacked. Because it was evident that she had been. Physical contract of any kind would be threatening to her right now.

He knew because he'd been though this before.

"Hey Kira" he said. He knew not to say something stupid like, 'are you okay?' Because it was evident that she wasn't.

"Hey, Stiles." She said, quiet and seeming to place his presence in the non-threatening zone.

"Do you need medical help?" He asked. She shook her head.

"No hospital. Just rest." She said, a after-sob making her breath hitch.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" He asked. He didn't even know where she lived. This city was a big place. He hoped it was close, though.

"No, not anymore." She said, tears making a reappearance.

"No...It's okay. Come on Kira, I'll get you cleaned up." He said gently, holding out a hand for her too take.

She looked from his face back to his hand before uncurling one arm from around herself to reach for it. Her hand was warm against his own, but he felt the blood on her hands.

God lord, this was not good.

He gently eased her up, but she almost collapsed again when she put weight on her left leg.

"Easy, easy." He said, moving his other arm around her sloppy so she had time to push him away. But, she accepted his arm, letting him wrap it around her.

He put himself on her left, letting her use his body to take the weight her left leg was supposed to. Usually guys would just sweep her off her feet and carry her, but he wanted to make her feel in control.

It wasn't fun to be carried when you couldn't force them to put you down.

They walked, achingly slow out of the alley. She flinched when the light wind hit her, and he looked at her in the light of the street light.

He immediately averted his gaze.

He eased her back onto the wall, slipping his jacket off from around himself to cover her up. He did up the button to stop it falling apart, before starting to walk again.

 

He eased her up the stairs, cursing his apartment building for its lack of working elevator. She didn't complain though, only starving away her tears as she fought through it.

Strong girl.

He eventually got into the apartment with a frantic giggle of his lock, his key threatening to jam up the damn thing. He shut the dorm with his foot, placing her on his couch as he went to his tiny sink to get a wash cloth. 

He warmed the water, looking at himself in the mirror as he waited for the heating to realise he wanted hot water. He had monstrous bags under his eyes, begging for sleep. But, he had more important things to attend to.

He rolled up his sleeves as he turned off the tap, sitting down on the couch beside Kira.

"Hey there. You need to get clean. Can you do it yourself?" He asked, wanting to try to respect her dignity.

She nodded weakly, and he handed her the cloth. He looked away as he opened the suit jacket for her, opening it so she could get herself cleaned up.

"I'm going to get you some of my clothes, okay?" He said, keeping his eyes adverted as he walked into his room.

He heard her hiss in pain as she cleaned herself, and he scavenged through his door from something soft. He eventually emerged with his lacrosse shirt from HighSchool and some tracksuit pants. They were going to be too big, but at least she would be comfortable.

He came back into the room just as he heard her finish, closing his eyes as he knelt next to her. He took the cloth in trade for the clothes, walking back to the bathroom to rinse away the blood.

He came back as she was struggling to put on the pants, and he painstakingly moved around the opposite side of the couch so she would see him approach her. She smiled at him gratefully, taking her hands away so he could help her.

 

They managed to get the pants on her hips and they both sat down on the couch, her breathing a little heavy.

Stiles loosened his tie. He wanted to get changed but he had the feeling Kira wanted to talk. So he waited until she began.

"Thank you so much, Stiles. I'm so lucky you found me."

"Ah.." Stiles didn't know what to say, scratching the back of his neck and smiling boyishly. "Thanks?"

She smiled.

"So um.." She said, gesturing to herself. "I guess you might wanna know why I'm crying in a alley in the middle of the night?"

"It's only 11pm, but no. It's okay. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He amended.

"I'm telling you anyway, my knight in shining armour should know why he saved me." She said, a smile playing on her lips. Stiles stayed silent, smiling at being called a knight.

"My boyfriend is abusive." She said, and Stiles flinched. He'd thought she just got mugged or something. This wasn't something that he'd run though his brain.

Good lord. The best people got the shittest luck.

"He's usually not too bad, but somehow I made him angry and he went all out on me. I barely got out of the house. I just kept running. But I tripped and twisted my ankle, so I hid." She said, gesturing at her left foot. "I was crying kinda loud, hey?" She said.

"Well if you weren't I wouldn't have found you." He said a moment later, trying to comfort her. She shrugged, curling her lip up disdainfully.

"I'm such a weakling. I just couldn't stand up to him because I don't have the money to move out and he's keeping me off the street.

 "Oh, Kira." He said comfortingly, before his voice grew serious. "You are not weak. You can't let anyone control you."

"But I am. Look at me!" She said, gesturing to her thin body.

"Me too!" Stiles flipped his hands around to gesticulate widely at himself. "I'm not your typical man, am I? I look like this, and I am some dickheads bitch! But I don't let him hurt me."

"Then why do you stick around? I don't know how long I can hold him off."

"Many reasons." He said with a sad smile. "For Scott, my best friend that works there....and another reason I'm slowly starting to realise." He continued, trailing off after he realised what he said. He hoped she didn't question it.

"What?" She asked anyway. Stiles sighed, straightening his back and taking a deep breath.

"It's not pretty, Kira. It's not pretty at all. But I want you to know I understand." He said, watching her carefully. Kira seemed to notice his change, placing a gentle hand on his wrist.

"I would like to know, but I won't push you."

"It's alright. I haven't talked about it in a long time, it will be good to vent again."

"Okay" she said quietly, waiting patiently as he gathered himself.

 

"My mom worked for a big business guy. He gave good pay and she enjoyed her job. He was a bit of asshole, but she brushed it off. He was relatively professional, but she was a beautiful woman and it didn't escape his notice. She just grinned and bared it. She had a son at home and a loving husband, so she kept her job for us."

 

"But soon things spiralled out of control. I don't know what he said or did, but she was so scared. The day she quit, she hid me between herself and my dad as they slept. She filed a restraining order to keep him away. But he was a smart man, cunning. Rich and powerful, thinking he could have whatever he set his eyes on. But, despite the threat, things slowly got back to normal for us. She got a new job and she stopped being so scared to let me out of her sight."

 

He took a deep breath, and Kira's hand tightened on his wrist.

 

"I was nine years old when he took me from my bed." He but his lip, pausing before continuing, ignoring Kira's sharp intake of breath.

"He used me as bait for my mom. He threatened to kill me if my fathers deputies came looking for me. He just wanted Mom to come. I don't remember everything that he did to me, I'm pretty sure he knocked me out for most of it. But I do remember him forcing me to scream. Scream for my mom into a phone. I remember because she was crying as I screamed."

 

"It came to a stage where she couldn't take it anymore, and she came alone to where he was holding me. I was conscious when she came, and he held me up as a barrier in front of his chest incase they had a sniper watching us. She cried when she saw me, and I remember crying too. I'd new what he wanted from my mother, he'd told me while laughing."

"He made her come inside, locking the deadbolt on the door. That was the most terrifying moment. Realising I was powerless. Realising I was too weak to stop him. That he was going to do whatever he wanted. We were trapped, _oppressed_ by him, with no way out. Between a deadbolt and the rest of the world."

"He grabbed me by the throat as he made my mother do what he wanted. I remember her screaming for him not to hurt me, screaming for _mercy_. Screaming for him to not hurt her little boy. And then I remembered the blinding pain."

Stiles lifted the front of his shirt, exposing his torso to just above his belly button. Where the thick, vertical scar ran from his pants up to just below his belly button.

"He stabbed me with a knife. He shoved it three inches deep inside me, right here. Then he dropped me, leaving me to die on the floor as he advanced on my mother. I was bleeding out, surrounded by my mother's screams and cries for my agony and her own."

"...and then he killed her."

"He broke her neck, just before the police came in....right in front of me. I don't think he really wanted to kill her, but he freaked out. I think he wanted to keep her forever. But he did want to kill me. I was just a pawn to get what he wanted. I was supposed to die that night. But my mom did instead."

Stiles wrapped his arms around his body.

 

"Anyway, now I'm scarred. My dad is too. We both lost more than my mom that night. I tried to kill myself on the first anniversary of her death. I wanted to be dead, because I should have been. I often dreamt about what it would have been like if I died instead. Wondered if they would have another child. Of they could move on...because we never moved on from my mother." Stiles finished, feeling the tears dripping on his arms before he even realised he was crying,

"...sorry. I didn't mean for this to turn into such a sob fest." He said, hastily scrubbing an arm over his eyes. "I just wanted to let you know that I understand."

Kira seemed shocked, but she didn't looked like she pitied him. And Stiles was grateful.

He hated being pitied.

"...Thank you, Stiles. Thank you so much"

"Yeah, well. It will always haunt me, but it was a long time ago. I just want you to know that it's not okay. You don't need to feel like you owe him anything. If he doesn't see you as somebody worthy of his respect, he doesn't deserve you. You shouldn't have to stay with him because you feel some sort of loyalty."

"I'm staying because I have reason to. It's not like I can leave anyway. I can't leave, but I'm not ready too." He smiled. "After all, somebody as to show Hale that he can't treat people like shit."

Kira let could a small giggle, and Stiles huffed a laugh too.

"So don't stay if you don't want to. Just because you are at a disadvantage and because he has some sort of power over you; doesn't mean there's always a way out. I didn't have a way out, but somebody found one for me when they rescued me. I can find one for you if you would like?"

"What do you mean?"

"I can offer you some money? A place to live if you can stand my mess?"

"You're letting me live with you?!" Kira cried, and they both flinched when she cradled a bruised rib.

"Well, until you get into the ballet academy. Why not? I have some proper savings now working for Hale."

"I don't want it be another reason to make you stay working for him."

"Oh, I can handle him. Trust me. I totally got this."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep"

Kira sat still for a moment, processing everything. "You hardly know me."

"I know enough. And besides, what better way to get to know each other?" Stiles said, throwing his hands up.

"You are amazing. Weird, but amazing." Kira said breathlessly, like she couldn't believe Stiles.

"Oh, tell me more." Stiles grinned.

 

Kira laughed, reaching across to hug him tightly. He put his arms around her gently, careful of her injuries.

And he didn't know how long they stayed like that. But it felt right.

They woke up the next morning still curled up together, Kira laughing at his cow lick.

And life didn't seem so shit anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you want his backstory to change. 
> 
> Anyway, see you next chapter were it gets happy again!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Control was his drive. 
> 
> And if that made him an asshole, he didn't really care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Derek P.O.V, and plot starts to sneak in.
> 
> Bu yeah. I'm officially sick and my throat is on fire. There might be a new chappie tomorrow to go with this one, but it depends how I feel when I wake up.
> 
> Muhaha. Tell me if u get the hints.  
> ;)

Derek flicked his pen across his fingers, twisting so it wove through his fingers. He reached his pinky, then set it back towards his thumb. And then again. And again.

Lydia's eyes caught his from her station outside, lifting a delicate eyebrow before looking back to her computer.

 

Sometimes he really hated having glass walls.

But then again, it could be argued that he hated everything. He was bitter and cold. He scared his employees simply by his presence. The media hassled him, but never got too close because of what he could do.

But it wasn't really hate. Yes, he despised a lot. But it was more that he was a control freak. In his blood and down to his bones.

Control was his drive.

And if that made him an asshole, he didn't really care.

Control was what he lived and breathed. He was sculpted to be the owner of this business all too quick. He had been in a whirlwind of doubt and confusion for a large part of his life.

Control was his anchor. It kept him grounded, satisfied with his life.

And he didn't like it when his control was fought against.

All he wanted was a few malleable and small minded interns. Wanted somebody from the younger generation, with enough spark and brains to be of use to him. He needed top class, but easily shut down.

Derek didn't like it when he didn't get what he wanted.

And then little Columbia came in. With his worn converse sticking out like a sore thumb through the glass, even before the interns entered his office. Derek seemed to notice small details. Because those details could cost him money if he missed them. Like typos and generalisations in his magazine.

And money was the product of his totalitarian control.

Without his money, he wouldn't have the power to have his level of control.

But, now everything had been screwed with the minute Columbia opened his mouth. That damn mouth. Derek had counted about seven times that he'd wanted to cut it right off. Because that mouth was dangerous to Derek's control.

And his mouth was the reason they were in this mess. Because he had some sort of issue with authority.

The damn kid needed to learn his place.

So, naturally, like all men of his status did...he blackmailed him.

And he'd thought that would be the end of it. That the kid would open his eyes to the bigger world and realise Derek was not to be fought against.

But he only fought harder. But Derek had been pleased that they hadn't reached the point that Derek would have had actually physically forced him to comply. Derek knew he would win, if it came to that.

...He had certain _qualities_ that would ensure his victory.

But he wasn't one to physically force people. He was above that now. Plus, he hadn't wanted any surface of that mangy apartment to touch his suit.

He preferred to use his words, twisting his power into some aspect of truth. Yes, the fake intern girl had been a reporter. A spy.

But nobody really cared all the much about a little ant that Hale had taken in. Derek could have shut down that story with a flash of cold hard cash.

But he let it run. He even sent those reporters to Columbia's house.

And yet the kid's inferior complex had raged on. Even Derek's public statement basically saying to the world that the kid was his bitch had only seemed to make him angrier.

Now Derek just wanted to break the kid.

He was a mouthy twenty-three year old that was too smart for his own good. Rejected Derek's power every minute that he was in his presence, fought against him with all he had.

But, It wasn't just control he wanted. He needed to repair that bit of that dignity he'd lost. It hadn't been much, but it still burned beneath his skin. Because that kid knew more than he did.

And he didn't like it one bit.

Derek had built this empire up after it was tarnished, and it all came naturally to Columbia. He had a brain that could be detrimental to Derek's power.

Derek just wanted to break that in. Mold that brilliance into something he could use. Because that brain could be a serious asset to Derek's power and image. Who wouldn't want a fast thinking deputy to cover up tracks and inform you of trends that had already been in other magazines? It would reduce his wasted time substantially. Columbia could boost this company, so far that it could never be reached by their rising competitor.

Because this new competitor was dangerous. It's board made up of very successful models, Business men, technology developers and fashion designers.

It was called the Alpha Pack Magazine.

And Derek knew just how dangerous they were. In more ways than one.

He needed Columbia to be broken and reshaped quickly. Derek's current use of him was helping Derek, but it wasn't reaching his full capabilities. And Derek only worked at 100%.

He was wasting potential.

Derek needed to break him apart, and bury that rebellious part of him so he could be a asset to Derek.

 

But, in the meantime, he didn't mind pulling rank with Columbia. Reminding him of who he was dealing with and slowly but surely breaking through his thick shell of snark and taking all the bits he needed.

 

Because he needed to break his personality. And it only made it harder that one of his qualities seemed to be a solid-brick-wall-kind of stubbornness.

But Derek could fix that. Could control and reshape that.

Just like everything else.

Because Columbia was just going to be another hurdle to jump, nothing more.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer moved into the room, which was lighter in the inside apparently, since he could actually see.
> 
> But in that moment, he really didn't want to see.
> 
> "Mother fu-"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy bananas I acutally sat down with Pen and paper and planned out this fic. 
> 
> I can't freaking wait.
> 
> Plot is beginning to show and its a whole lot deeper than first expected for Stiles.
> 
> Let me know what you think~

Stiles turned up spot on seven o'clock, walking into the fancy ass spinning doors of the Hale Magazine.

Nobody bothered him as he walked towards the elevators, and he didn't see anyone he recognised in their cubicle-d masses. He needed to talk to Scott, like pronto. The dude hadn't replied to his millions of texts and increasing spastic voice messages.

He missed him. And he kinda wanted to hit Scott for ignoring Little Stiles, when he was taking one for the team here.

He had a feeling he was gonna hug the dude, then punch him. Right in his cute little doggy jaw that Allison loved.

Ah, he could feel the satisfaction already.

He had taken too much Adderal this morning. Kira had been asleep on his couch when he'd left, recovering.

...They were going to the police this afternoon. He knew Kira would rather put it behind her, but he knew from experience that you could only put your past behind you when you shut it down and buried it deep.

Not necessarily literally. But that too.

Although he wanted the literally bury the guy because of what he did to Kira. Just seeing her injuries made something sinister burn up inside him, and he knew to stay away from feelings that powerful.

So he tried to avoid looking at her injuries, and rather think about how beautiful she could be as a dancer.

There you go, some positivity.

Because dancing was her future. Soon she would leave this all behind as a distant memory...He had to be sure to remind her to think of him when she was famous.

Because he loved to see it when peoples lives became complete. When they got all they wanted, and where completely satisfied.

He got, like, secondary satisfaction because of it.

"Seven, Stiles?" Lydia said as he walked past, questioning eyes under raised eyebrows following his movements.

"I'm not late. I'm supposed to get here at Seven."

"Whatever you say." She said, her voice following him as he entered Hale's annoyingly shiny office.

"Seven, Columbia?"

"Why is everyone saying that?! I'm here, aren't I?" Stiles groans. "Plus, you said seven before!"

"But that was before. This is now."

"Well I need some freaking warning when you decide to change shit on me."

"Classy, Columbia. Very classy."

"I can say shit whenever I want. You should be used to it now, dickhead. Don't expect me to pleasant when you are blackmailing me."

"I expect you to be on your best behaviour towards me-" Stiles scoffed, but Hale talked over him "-today especially."

"I never am, but why?" Stiles questioned the man.

"Board meeting for the big magazines. But you knew that, did you?" Hale said, implying that Stiles wasn't pulling his weight. He should really learn that Stiles wasn't going to be pulling _shit_ for him.

"So I'm your pretty little assistant for the day? What about Lydia?" Stiles questioned, already feeling like this day was going to exceptionally shit. Like, even more than usual.

"Yes. But I'm taking you on purpose." Hale said, sorting something's out on his desk as Stiles stood tapping his foot impatiently.

"I need you to pay attention. I need you to pay special attention to the Alpha Pack CEO's. They are my direct competition and they have soared into big money too quickly for something shady to not be happening. I need to watch them carefully, and for you to remember anything they say so I can use it against them."

"I'm shit at paying attention."

"Well, get better in the next 5 hours. We will be revealing plans for our market and Business in this meeting, so if they decide to change to appease whoever is feeding them the cash, we will call them out on it."

"Dude. I don't even know their names, let alone who works where."

"Which is why you will have this memorised by the time we get in the car." Hale threw a folder at him which Stiles caught and opened.

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Remember our deal? You have to do everything I say."

"Whatever." Stiles said, unwillingly sticking his nose into the file and following Hale subconsciously through the halls.

 

......

 

"Hello, Stiles."

"Wha?" Stiles said, fries hanging from his mouth as he turned to where the voice came from. It was his lunch break, damnit. He was in the little intern kitchen on the 17th floor, hiding away from the stress of the day for just a little while.

'Cause Hale was _really_ getting under his skin. And not in the good, healthy anger way.

Because Stiles was getting familiar with Hale. He had his coffee order down to a 't' and knew how to approach him in one of his moods. He was getting used to working for the man, and it was getting a little easier to get up in the mornings.

And that concerned Stiles.

"It took me ages to find you." The voice said, the voice which belonged to Jennifer Blake. Stiles jumped as he recognised her. She had a sinister smirk on her face, and Stiles knew she was in control of this situation...had a feeling that she always was.

And if anyone knew Stiles they would know he _did not do_ _that shit_.

"Well if you hadn't noticed, I didn't want to be found." Stiles said, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Well I need you to meet somebody, Mr Hale asked that we'll all be familiar with each other for the meeting today."

"Wait, what? Who?" Stiles said rather articulately, caught off guard. What was she implying? That she, and whoever else this person was, were coming to the meeting? Stiles didn't exactly expect it to just be him and Hale to represent them, but he'd never really thought that Jennifer would be the one to come with.

She was both creepy and scary, and Stiles could not deal. Her aura and presence sent shivers down his spine, and he wanted to be anywhere else right now (except maybe Hale's Office, cause that was specialy kind of hell in itself).

"Come with me" she said, voice implying he didn't have any choice otherwise, and she'd drag him if she had to.

Stiles gulped, packing away his stuff into his shoulder bag and shoving in the papers he was trying to memorise without covering them in fry oil.

She lead the way as he followed passively, feeling confused as ever. He discretely wiped his oily fingers on his pants as they walked down the halls. She took him back to the elevator, telling the thing to go to the 79th floor, where Stiles never had reason to go before.

The doors opened after a increasingly awkward silence, and Stiles was confronted with dark walls and obsidian carpet. They walked through the halls that had barely enough light, despite it being mid-day.

The hall opened up to more darkly lit rooms, nothing like the other clear glass and light filled floors.

 

How did he not see this before?

Jennifer kept walking as though this was completely normal, while Stiles gaped at everything like it was extraterrestrial.

Who could have thought that Hale would allow this kind of difference in his pristine building? This gigantasurous difference that could be called a eyesore?

What kind of situation would inspire Hale to make a change like this? And to only one floor?

Seemed Hale could be diverse in some aspect of his life. Not in any other though, apparently.

Jennifer stopped after a moment of walking though the dark halls, at what seemed to be a door. Stiles could hardly tell, seeing as the dark wood of it faded into the wall.

She smirked at him and he ignored it. She reached forward, opening the door with a evident click that seemed to echo in the silence. Stiles had even noticed how creepy this place actually was in his stunned thoughts. And go, it was so quiet he could hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

....Stiles did _not_ like the quiet.

She moved into the room, which was lighter in the inside apparently, since he could actually see.

But in that moment, he really didn't want to see.

" _Mother_ fu-"

"Hello, Stilinski." The suave voice filled the quiet.

Jackson. Whittemore.

"Are you serious?" Stiles gaped, and he felt eyes on him.

"Not happy to see me? Haven't wondered where I had been?" Jackson said.

"I would have to say no, asshole." Stiles huffed, finally seeing the other man in the room.

"Feisty one, aren't you?" He said, and Stiles got a super creepy air from him. Like, I-burn-fires-to-light-the-darkness-in-my-soul type. He was dressed to the nines, almost in excess. There was even one of those handkerchief-y things in his front pocket. The only other person he knew that wore those was Hale.

"What's it to you?" Stiles asked warily, but he had a feeling he needed be careful if he wanted to keep his mouth intact. The man sat in a seat that was one of the ensemble arranged around a coffee table

"And a brain too. I like that." The man smirked, looking at him like he was prodding at his soul. Stiles tried not to flinch. Cause this was a different type of power. Not the strict and anal type Hale was fond of. It was different, but all too familiar.  Stiles didn't like it one bit.

"Who are you?" He asked, a little breathily.

The man laughed, deep and rumbling. He swirled the whiskey in his hand that Stiles had even noticed before.

Seriously? Could be get anymore like a movie super villain?

"Your new friend, Przemysław."

Stiles was stunned. Nobody called him that. Only his grandma in Poland called him that when they spoke Polish to each other. Alarm bells rung in Stiles' head. Because, one) How in the world had this guy found out his name? And two) He was immediately suspicious of anyone that could pronounce his name that wasn't polish.

This guy be many things but polish wasn't one of them.

"Okay. What the hell do you want?" Stiles said, all pretence gone. The man's smile only grew, as did Jackson's.

That little shit.

"To be a ally, a friend. Maybe even the only one on your side."

"I don't have side." Stiles objected as Jennifer moved to sit down at one of the seats near Jackson.

The man just smiled knowingly.

"You will soon enough." He said eerily, before sitting up. He gestured for Stiles to sit down and he did with extreme care, sitting on the edge so he was ready to run at any point.

"It is lovely to meet the boy that has messed with my nephew's power with a bare few words." He said, grew gesturing to himself flippantly "Peter Hale, Mr Stilinski."

Stiles narrowed his eyes, running though his brain. This guy was....Hale's deranged uncle. Tried to overtake Derek's power over the company in a court of law, seeing as there was suspiciously no will from Hales' parents. He lost anyway.

...Stiles drew in the best of crowds.

"And why does Peter Hale want me? I belong to your nephew, apparently. And I'm pretty sure this isn't just about the meeting later today."

Peter breathed in through his nose, like a  _dog_ , and for some reason Stiles felt entirely violated.

"Spunk, brains _and_ sass." Peter nodded to himself. Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into his chair. "I knew my instincts were right."

Stiles opened his mouth to ask what the hell this guy was on about when Jackson did instead.

"Peter took me in the day I got you in the bathroom. He's been watching and waiting for a excuse to talk to you ever since."

Stiles gaped, taking it in. And then he tilted his head at Jackson.

"You mean the day I got you. Did you bruise?" Stiles smiled cheekily. Jackson went from cool and suave to a red-faced explosion in 0.002 seconds.

Jennifer chose that as her moment to jump in.

"We thought you might like some more...opportunities to be open to you here at Hale Magazine. See it like a promotion of a sort."

"What would this promotion offer me?"

"An amazing life. A whole new world opened to your eyes, a permanent position here where your newly acquired skills will be recognised."

Stiles sat. He stared at Peter long and hard.

"So, essentially. You want to kidnap me from your nephews clutches and make me work for you instead." Stiles asked, but it wasn't a question. He knew.

"If you want to see it that way."

"So what, I become apart of his little clique and he fight the world on our own?"

"You say that like you underestimate me, us. We are much more powerful than you would expect."

Stiles frowned. There was something here that didn't fit. He glanced around at all of them. They watched him intently. Everything closed away and eyes piercing him.

"What about Jackson? I took him down before. What make you think the whole Hale Company would be able to do any less?"

And then Jackson was on him. Leaning over him with hands around his neck and- oh my god.

His eyes were glowing gold.

But Stiles hardly realised that with the sudden panic that had broke past his walls and fought to the surface. He struggled against his hold, trying to level his weight against Jackson like last time.

But Jackson hardly moved.

His grip was firm, not tight, but firm. But it still sent Stiles off the edge.

"Jackson!" The name was thundered, breaking so easily though Stiles panic like a hot knife through butter.

And then Jackson was in the corner. As far away from Stiles as possible. Peter was standing and Jennifer was looking at the floor.

Everything was still for a moment.

Stiles was reeling, confused and hurt. The last tinges of a panic attack floated though him.

And then he felt the familiar anger overtake. The lovingly simple and understandable emotion, which he grabbed onto tightly.

He was off his chair and in Peters face within the second.

"I don't know what the _fuck_ that was and what the hell your motive is, but that's irrelevant. You think you can talk all high and mighty about a new life, but get this. There is no shortcuts to making everything nice and perfect. And it never will be perfect. My life will not suddenly become better after you say a few words to make it all go away."

"But, even then. Even if somehow you had a way of making my life complete, I would never obey you. I hardly even obey your nephew and I have to but my contract. I don't owe you shit and I'm not about to let you walk all over me with your fancy words. I might not like your nephew, but least I know what he wants from me. You, on the other hand are shady as hell, and I have had my fair share of darkness." Stiles hissed in barely controlled rage. He picked up his bag from where he'd left it on the chair. He turned to Peter again, and the man's face was blank.

"Also, stay the hell away from me. I don't care who you are or what you are apparently capable of, but I don't care." He growled. "Sort out the meeting on your own"

Stiles turned, and marched the hell out of there.

 

Back to familiar territory, where at least everything wasn't so dark.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been a clash no wolf in New York could forget.
> 
> Where three powers came at each other. The Hales, the Dukes and the Argents. Wolf against hunter against wolf. A three sided triangle.
> 
> It had originally been about business, the mighty Argents a human company, specialist in law. Hard to find in this era of Werewolves. The Dukes, a publishing organisation and the Hales, a magazine company. 
> 
> It had been the usual aggression. Hales against Dukes. The Hales stronger and powerful from their old blood and deep roots. But then the Argents had been brought in by the Dukes.
> 
> And it all went hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of backstory.
> 
> How do you guys feel about my censoring of like 'f*ck'? Is it distracting? Let me know please.
> 
> And I hope you enjoy where this is going :)

"When were you going to tell me Uncle-McCreeps-a-lot was watching me?"

Hale looked up from his work to watch Stiles walk across the room, ditching his stuff on his desk.

"Uncle Mc...what?" He tried, Stiles huffed.

"Your uncle." Stiles said, turning to look at him with his hands on his hips. "That we will be working with in approximately two hours."

"He was watching you?"

"As if you didn't know. Nice test by the way, putting me in a situation like that."

"Test...?" Hale looked quizzical.

"I'm not going to throw Scott under the bus like that, no matter how you treat me. My contact makes me work under you specifically. If he took me in his clique I'd be breaking that."

Hale watched him for another moment.

"Well done, then." He said finally, before avoiding Stiles gaze and looking down at his work. Stiles watched him for another moment, tilting his had to the side quizzically.

Hmm.

 

Stiles turned and moved to sit down at his desk, taking the papers from his bag to put them down so he could work on them for the next few hours.

He had a feeling that today was just going to go to one extreme after the next. That things were changing. And he wanted to be ready.

In any way that he could.

He opened a file to the one he was looking at earlier.

Deucalion. That was the only name available. Was super creepy and sly. Blind, but not to be underestimated. He 'peacefully' overtook the Duke's, his old business, before he made this new Alpha Magazine and merged their poweress into his. It was a realitvely small company, reduced by reasons that had been marked 'classified' by the file.

When there was something in his way, he either took it or destroyed it.

And it seems to be all legally. No...business collusion or anything of the sort, as he assured investors.

But Stiles was pretty sure it was just because they hadn't been caught.

Companies didn't just allow themselves merge peacefully without some sort of incentive. The old Duke company had nothing to gain from being swallowed by the Alpha Magazine. 

Stiles was beginning to feel really out of his depth.

Because this...this was some sort of twisted power play to get whatever they wanted. To take whatever they wanted. Destroying and merging to climb their way to the top.

And the Hale Magazine was the next step up.

 

.....

 

Derek didn't know what was going on.

....But he had a feeling everything was about to change.

The old system of territory and superiority had been removed from his kind at the beginning of the industrial era. Going from land and territory to status and power amongst the human race.

Land no longer mattered to him and his kind. It didn't matter if other wolves cross your path. It was New York. Not one pack could control this city.

So they expressed power in terms of...enterprise, instead. Power was the businesses you owned, and the percentage of the economy you controlled. Sure, it could descend into old instinctual, bloody violence.

But they preferred not get their suits dirty.

In less advanced places, instincts still were the main order. To protect and to take with pure simple violence. They had packs and territory, scents on welcoming signs to say that this was pack territory. Here, in the city that never slept...it was more noticeable if a whole "company" disappeared. Humans noticed that. So instead, if one pack had something another wanted...they did things with the power they held. Shamed them publicly.

Because that was so much more effective than a old bloody battle. Besides. It was much more satisfactory when you left them living amongst the burned and destroyed remains of their power.

Wolves had to be so incredibly careful in this city. Power was highly competitive. There was always somebody that wanted what you had. There was around one thousand Werwolves in this city, and power was hard to find and keep. Some packs lived low key, minding their own business and having a small Business to keep them going.

The problem was, without alliances....power, no matter how small, could become just that little bit more powerful over your enemies. If it caught notice, it could be swallowed within a month.

And that was where the big packs came in. With hundreds of members, dominating the economy. Packs ran to ally themselves with them. Offering portions of their business and their pack for safety and security.

The Hales had been a empire for over one hundred years. Moving from their sheltered and protected home in California when the mass migration started, to build themselves up in this New York City. That's what set them ahead. They got out before it got bad.

Because wolves, living peacefully with the natives for centuries, had been executed just the same. Many packs died protecting their territories from the iron railways cutting through them.

Some relocated. Destroyed and weak. Taking up residence elsewhere and just letting humans share their space.

But the system of territories had been largely destroyed for American wolves. They were taken, used by humans. You either accepted them for you died protecting what you had.

The Hales avoided that. Setting up in the neutral New York. Where hundreds of poor immigrant workers would do anything for work.

And ever since they'd been on top. Fending off enemies and keeping allies close. Staying contemporary and honest to readers.

But, ten years ago the company had fallen into a hole. Actually, burnt in flames if you wanted to be realistic. A hundred wolves died. Reducing their pack by at third. And, many of the original Hale blood line had been taken too. Leaving only a few of the bloodline behind to pick up the pieces.

It had been a clash no wolf in New York could forget.

Where three powers came at each other. The Hales, the Dukes and the Argents. Wolf against hunter against wolf. A three sided triangle.

It had originally been about business, the mighty Argents as human company, specialising in law. Hard to find in this era of Werewolves. The Dukes, a publishing organisation and the Hales, a magazine company. 

It had been the usual aggression. Hales against Dukes. The Hales stronger and powerful from their old blood and deep roots. But then the Argents had been brought in by the Dukes.

And it all went hell.

The Dukes swallowed more than they could chew.....because the Argents had been werewolf hunters. They had supposed to be allied against the Hales. But the Argents turned on them, and the Hales against them both.

A Three sided battle.

It hadn't ever been front on confrontations. It had been below the belt, behind the back kind of power play. None of it legal.

The Dukes killed half the Argents in a accidental gas gas leak in their headquarters. Talia, the Hale alpha and CEO had blinded the leader of the Dukes. And then....

And then the Argents burned the Hales in their beds. Their head huntress setting them alight. They'd targeted the Hale bloodline. Targeting the foundation of the Hales.

But then it had been over. The Dukes and Argents destroyed each other.

So, in the end. The Hales came out on top, despite their losses.

It didn't feel that way.

Derek lost his family. He lost his mom, his dad. His sisters and brothers and uncles and aunts and cousins. Even his little cousin Danielle, at three months of age, burned in her cot next to his Aunt Elissa and Uncle Peter's bed.

And all because Derek couldn't take control. Let the Huntress Kate walk all over him. Let her get in. Let her control him, bend him do to her bidding. 

It had been a few years before the company could get back on its feet. Derek now Alpha and CEO, by the law of the pack. The oldest offspring of the purest blood took the throne.

A position he'd never wanted.

But now he had control. Control was the air he breathed and the words he spoke. So nothing would ever get in. So he would never have to feel that pain. Never have to feel that loss.

It might make him a robot. Make him shut off from his humanity and his wolf, a pure machine. But he didn't care.

Because he didn't want to feel that again. Didn't want to go through that again.

He needed control. Needed it like air.

But Columbia was proving to be simply uncontrollable. He did what he was told, but always with the air over him that it proved nothing. That, even though he was doing this, Derek still didn't control him.

He didn't object anymore. He just did what Derek asked him with a little flail before leaving the room. But it was more than that...He'd never met somebody that could say "fuck you" in so many ways without even opening his mouth.

Derek was constantly perplexed by him. Something new about him everyday, like unwrapping a pass-the-parcel and finding something knew under every layer.

But he didn't have time to think about that though.

Because there was something changing. Something Derek had a feeling he wouldn't like at all. And it wasn't just the impending Alpha Pack on the rise, and old enemy coming back at the head of its inner circle.

It involved Columbia.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how many times Stiles walked into Hales office, he never lost the feeling he got seeing Hale in that desk. He was an imposing presence. The type that demanded respect by simply being present.
> 
> It rubbed him the wrong way every time....But, somehow, Stiles got used to it.
> 
> And that was probably good. Because he may not like Hale, and they did not match well in the slightest. And he was a enemy of a sort.
> 
> But he was the enemy Stiles knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back? 
> 
> Character development! Stiles and Derek still have a long way to go tho. And plot is actually a thing!!!!

"You okay Kira?" Stiles asked into his phone. Kira's grainy voice echoed in his ear.

"Yup, I am now. Although I'm surprised you have a landline. Nobody had these anymore."

"Old building." Stiles answered, casting a eye down the hall to make sure nobody was there. And nobody was. But that didn't stop him feeling eyes on him. He shivered.

He didn't know why he called Kira. But, for some reason, he felt the need to make sure Kira was okay.

He had a _bad_ feeling about today.

A chill on the back of his neck that steadily got worse as the hours counted down to the meeting. He just wanted to make sure Kira wasn't going to be involved.

That she was okay.

Not good. _Okay_.

Stiles knew he couldn't ask her to be good for a while. Because he knew she'd be lying. She _wasn't_ going to be good for a while.

Stiles could only hope he was a good enough foundation for her to build herself back up on.

"That'd explain why it was buried under a pile of clothes. I was throughly confused when your boxers started ringing. I hope they were washed."

Stiles chuckled. He was twenty four, on the tail end of college. Hell if he was gonna walk to the laundromat more than once a fortnight.

"Sorry. At least you know you can contact me at work?" Stiles suggested.

"Speaking of which, I need to sort out my work. I hope I don't get fired." Kira pondered out loud. Stiles winced.

"If you explain to your boss I'm sure they will understand. It's only one shift."

"Stiles. My boss is born and bred New-Yorker. Who owns a coffee shop to serve other New-Yorkers."

Stiles had to laugh at that. The chill went away for just a small moment. And he was glad. Scott was the only one that could do that before...but he just decided to disappear off the _freaking planet_.

Kira was a damn fine substitute. And he was considering holding auditions for the new role of best friend. Scott had taken leave with no definite return date.

And Stiles needed some more friendly people in his life right now. Like, no manipulative bastards preferably. Within twenties. Either sex. No CEO's. No Harvard stuck-ups. No _dickheads_.

What could go wrong?

Kira giggled on the other end.

"Well. I'll let you get back to your very important job."

"Yeah." Stiles huffed, before lowering his voice. The hallway was empty, but he could still feel the chill on the back of his neck. "Stay safe, yeah?"

"Yes Stiles. I'm _okay_. I'm probably safer than you, facing the harsh and unforgiving New York." She said lightheartedly, but Stiles looked out the window and across the city. He bit his lip.

"You're probably right."

 

.........

 

No matter how many times Stiles walked into Hales office, he never lost the feeling he got seeing Hale in that desk. He was an imposing presence. The type that demanded _respect_ by simply being present.

It rubbed him the wrong way every time....But, somehow, Stiles got used to it.

And that was probably good. Because he may not like Hale, and they did not match well in the slightest. And he was a enemy of a sort.

But he was the enemy Stiles _knew_.

He was realising that there was something much bigger than Hale in this city. Something he was not prepared for. But Hale was the Big Bad. The biggest target, making him the easiest to to hit. Stiles was stuck next to him.

If Hale went down. So did he.

If Stiles wanted to survive the corporate world, he needed allies. Not friends, allies. Friends unfortunately meant nothing in this world.

So it didn't matter if Hale was the biggest dick ever.

Because at least Stiles knew how to fight him off. And he could protect himself against Hale. But he was a ant. Ant that would be squashed on his own.

He needed a boot to hide behind.

And Stiles had a few tricks up his sleeve. He wasn't going to be useless going into this fight. It wasn't physical, it was mental. Probing at each others intellect, fighting through holes in their judgement and getting inside like a virus.

Stiles needed a strong drive and firm goal to get through this. Because he was going to be stuck with Hale for a while. He may hate him, but as they said:

_"The enemy of my enemy if my friend."_

And that saying hadn't failed anyone before.

...Right?

 

"Good afternoon, Columbia."

"Do we seriously need to go through names again? Me, Stiles. You, Hale." Stiles huffed. "Even Tarzan could figure this out."

Hale ignored him. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Are you ready for this?" Stiles asked after a moment. Hales eyes snapped up to meet his. Stiles felt the tingle of satisfaction at seeing the shock on his face. It was as if he'd though Stiles was incapable of being serious.

He gon' learn today.

"I am ready, Columbia. The questions is, are you?" Hale deflected. Stiles looked down at himself. With his relatively straight suit and dress shoes (cringe) with the messenger back strapped across his chest.

"Hell yeah." He said, smirking up at Hale. But, his knuckles tightened on his bag strap, turning white under the harsh grip.

He did _not_ have a good feeling about this.

But he could try...yeah?

Besides. These guys where all CEO's. And the type Stiles despised. He could unleash his sass if he needed to....

And then suddenly Hale was in his space, grabbing his chin to look his straight in the eye. Stiles didn't wrench himself out of Hales grip, mostly because he was too shocked to move.

But, there was something in those eyes that made Stiles stop.

"Don't make a fool of me, Columbia." He said, hard and cold as ice. Eyes piercing Stiles.

And Stiles got it.

....he needed to stay in line.

Just this once.

Because 1) he was so totally out of his depth and 2) not all of them would be so resilient to Stiles attitude. And he knew that these guys could make him disappear. Like poof. No more Stiles.

That was the power of these guys.

And Hale had enemies on every side. Poking and prodding at him for weaknesses. Stiles was determined not to be a weakness. He was going to suss them out. Keep his cool. Watch. Learn....And then he could tear them down.

But he couldn't be a lone wolf. Not anymore. It wasn't just one person anymore, one guy to fight off. He couldn't do this on his own.

He just had to figure out a way to get Hale on his side. And to stop being a freaking dick.

But, for now....he could stay quiet.

 

He was looking at the bigger picture. The long road ahead. His sass and off-the-bat intelligence was only going to get him so far.

He needed a plan.

Step one: Observe.

Step two: ?

He knew what he needed to do to survive.

...But that didn't mean he had to like it.

He let Hale hold his chin for a moment, waiting until the man let him go. It fought against every instinct he'd relied on these past few years, to let himself be held like this. But he let Hale hold him in his grip, no matter how much he wanted to fight him off.

Hale seemed pleased when his hand slid from Stiles' face. Stiles bit lip to keep from saying what he really wanted to.

Allies. Stiles. _Allies_.

Hale turned away from him, and grabbed some files off his desk. As he walked past Stiles he put them in his arms and kept walking.

Stiles tasted blood in his mouth.

But he followed Hale out the door, cradling the important files to his chest. He ignored Lydia's raised eyebrow, giving her a withering look. She smiled as he walked past.

Stiles breathed deep. These files were going to help him too. So he could carry them.

He could deal....because if he couldn't deal he could be dead.

Stiles knew what people were capable of. He knew what powerful men like the ones at this meeting did. He'd read the files, seen the facts...

Borne the scars.

He knew. And he was not powerful enough to fight them off. His memory would grant him no points here without a plan. Right now, he was back to the little boy laying in the dark, waiting to see what his captor had in mind for him next.

He couldn't that boy again.

He needed to be one step ahead. Needed to have the upper hand...so he _wouldn't_ end up that way again. He _knew_ he didn't have enough luck to survive a second time.

Because these guys didn't miss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one day is dragging so bad. I'm sorry :( This day will hopefully finish next chapter.
> 
> Tell me if there are any plot holes :)
> 
> See you next time!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nothing to add, Sir." He said, polite and carrying across the room. But, the sass was real. Oops. What could he say? He couldn't help it. The presence of manipulative just sent his sass trigger off. Not his fault.
> 
> Maybe they should just stop being manipulative bastards?
> 
> ...What a nice world that would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have plot!!!!!!!
> 
> I'm sorry.
> 
> WARNING: Panic Attack.

There was something peculiar about sitting in a car with Mr Hale.

He looked relaxed, laying back with legs in front of him, aviator sunglasses on. Although, Stiles thought the sunglasses were overkill. The windows were as darkly tinted as the law allowed.

Stiles didn't need him to put this show of power on. Stiles was well aware of his power. It was obvious who was in power here, even in this situation. Stiles sat opposite to him, facing the side as the man lounged in the back seat.

Because it was a freaking limo.

But Stiles was all pulled in. Legs tucked against where the seat met the floor, knees together and arms in his lap. He knew he looked every bit the lowly assistant that he was supposed to be today.

He needed to look _passive_.

...God he hated that word.

Him looking weaker made Hale look stronger. Because today was all about posturing. Flexing metaphorical muscles like a bunch of teenage boys, in Stiles opinion.

But his opinion didn't matter. Of course.

Especially now. The world knew about the little intern that had back-talked Hale. It had been swallowed by other news quite quickly, as things usually did. But it had left a mark.

This would be Hales first big appearance since he announced he'd "taken him in". But everyone knew he'd made Stiles his bitch.

Today was him proving he could control Stiles.

And that made Stiles want to just punch him in the face. Just wham. Because he wasn't a freaking toy he could play around with. He wasn't a puppet on strings, under Hales manipulating hand.

He was a man, a grown man. With his own problems and feelings and life. He wasn't just this guys slave. He was so much more.

And yet he was treated like a slave.

It wasn't as bad as it could have been. Stiles had seen guys like this at their worst. But, it wasn't physical humiliation. It was mental, emotional. But that was what these CEO's did best.

It was the reason why they were on top. Charismatic and manipulative. The two went hand in hand.

And yet...Stiles saw something in those eyes earlier.

 

It was like Hale didn't want to hurt him. Like he was warning him that he would have to, if Stiles screwed up. But to Stiles it was like saying "this might hurt" before chopping off his head.

Stiles still knew Hale was his best bet. He had to be loyal, as much as he wanted to push him out of his 80th story window. Hell, Hale didn't deserve his loyalty.

But Stiles was well aware that CEO's didn't give a shit about things like earning or deserving. They just _took_.

So, Stiles was going to be the better man.

Be the mature, college student (that didn't quiet meet, did they?) with higher class than these guys sitting in a bunch of chairs and challenging everyone around them to arm wrestles.

Because that was today was, really. You getting the analogy of teenage boys yet? Stiles really did mind being the shadow. But he didn't have choice. Simple as that.

Hales unsaid warning echoed in his mind, and he knew the consequences if he embarrassed Hale.

Poof.

So Stiles took the higher ground. Mouth shut, but eyes open. Watching. The dude that lived was always the smart one. The one that never went first. Never took the risk. Let the macho jock go first so he could prove some testosterone validity test.

Stiles was never macho anyway. The most mucho thing he did was play lacrosse in HighSchool. And even then he only ever played one full game.

Stiles was 100% un-macho. But he was perfectly fine with that.

Because that meant he could be the un-suspicious ninja in disguise. Okay, maybe not ninja. But a larger force in disguise? Secret Agent?

But he was a secret agent for his own agenda. Not like a double agent or anything that cool.

 _Sigh_.

He was just Stiles Stilinski.

And he hoped that would be enough.

 

........

 

Something touched Stiles back from behind.

And Stiles breath caught. He looked at Hale in front of him, pre-meeting mingling while Stiles stood behind him. Like the dutiful intern he was supposed to be.

Stiles didn't turn, though.

That cologne was highly distinctive. Although, it hardly seemed to cover the stretch of darkness and evil from the man.

You guessed it. Peter.

"Afternoon, Przemysław"

"What part of stay the hell away from me don't you get?" Stiles hissed quietly, still not turning. Peters touch sent cold shivers down his spine, but he didn't give the man the satisfaction of showing what his presence did to Stiles.

"You didn't think I could stay away from your beautiful aura for long, did you?" Peter answered, not taking this hand from Stiles' back. It was _cold._

"Aura my ass. You just wanted to creep me out." Stiles answered, voice still low. Peter chuckled, and Stiles couldn't helping thinking he sounded like a evil movie villain.

But, to be honest, he kinda was.

"Both could be true." Peter said, and suddenly the hand was gone from his back. Stiles felt the cold slip away, and one would think it would be soothing with Peter gone. But, it only left him tense and hyperaware. The muscles in his neck and back tensed tightly.

 _Now_ he was pissed.

Because he totally wasn't tense already. Thanks, Creepy Uncle.

He felt eyes on him and he looked up to see Hale looking at him quizzically. He curled his lip, but said nothing. But that didn't mean he had nothing to say,

Stiles had plenty _freaking_ things to say.

But they were already moving inside, and Stiles could see Peter disappearing around the corner with Jennifer and Jackson behind him.

They were like the Creeptastic Trio.

Stiles felt a smile smile slip onto his face at the thought.

Good. He needed to calm down. Anger would do him no favours here.

Hale seemed satisfied, turning around and walking into the room. Stiles breathed, schooled his facial features into a blank expression. He walked inside.

 ...And just hoped to God that he wouldn't trip over.

 

.........

 

The meeting was largely pretty boring.

And Stiles sat next to Hale, pretending to take notes. Yeah. Pretending. He said he'd behave. Not be a dog.

Besides, screw that shit.

He would be able to write a essay this fancy-schmancy business shit if Hale wanted him too. He studied business in college. He wasn't blind going into this.

So, not only did he have his uber cool memory, he had knowledge of all the fancy terms they were speaking with.

Hale was largely ignoring him. Sitting in a passive aggressive manner, to show he wasn't to be messed with. Peter sat on the other side of Hale and his groupies sat behind them.

Stiles wanted to scoff at the posturing going on. To a outsider, who didn't see this everyday. It looked rather pathetic.

The Alpha Magazine board was rather varied. From big: I-could-bench-press-you, guys, to: If-looks-could-kill-you'd-be-dead, women.

...One of them wasn't even wearing shoes.

?

Stiles didn't really understand what it was all for. But he was just a lowly peasant in this world of rich men.

But he had a freaking brain.

When they spoke it was like a needles hidden in sugary sweets. They weren't even trying to be civil. The tension was so extreme, it felt like they were five seconds away from starting a brawl. Like, all the time. For three hours straight.

Stiles was getting rather sick of it.

He felt like this was a mix of a HighSchool locker room and that TV show Law and Order.

It was _really_ confusing. 

Stiles had largely given up trying to decide what the hell all this posturing was for, but he kept his ears open and his face blank. These people didn't know he was Hales weapon. He was just supposed to be one of the small fries, burnt and turned to ash, to show Hale's power indirectly to his opposition.

These people were the big fries. Like, whole potatoes. 

Seriously. This was the big shit.

So he did his duty. Looking obedient next to Hale, while listening.

They sounded mostly clean, through all the bullshit. But that was now. Hale was playing a big plan. Waiting for it to unfold over time. This was just the beginning.

The first big meeting of the Alpha and the Hale magazine.

And, c'mon. These were _magazines_.

Stiles had read both magazines from time to time. He didn't see the big deal about it. The only people in this world that seemed to care so much about these magazines were the magazines themselves.

Stiles had never heard of a Magazine Club. Could you imagine it? "Alright ladies, this week we are going to read Hale Magazine. Have it read by Tuesday so we can discuss the section on 'Six Summer Favourites'!"

Stiles bit his lip so he wouldn't burst out giggling at the thought.

"Anything to add?" A voice called out. Stiles hadn't noticed it had gone silent.

So much for listening.

He really had to work on the allies thing. Like, actually doing what Hale told him to do. He didn't know why he expected to be with it immediately. Hello, ADHD?

He was like 86% sure he only did well in school was because his memory was so good. Everything else in his brain was plop. His memory was the only thing going for him.

But it wasn't like he was going for the ladies anyway.

Stiles stayed still. He didn't move his head in any way to address the voice. It was distinctly male. But he didn't dare look. He looked up to Hale instead. And, he didn't miss the pleased look that crossed Hales face when Stiles did so.

Because Stiles was showing he only answered to Hale.

...Stiles wished he was sitting under a desk so he could kick Hale.

"My intern has nothing to add, Deucalion." Hale answered. Stiles eyed him. He smirked back.

"I'd like to hear him speak his own words, Derek." Deucalion said back, not asking. Stiles got it.

Ah. Derek. Cool name.

Shame Stiles wouldn't be using it until Hale decided to address him by his proper name. Unless...it might piss him off. Since Stiles was 'below' him and not worth of his first name.

Hmm.

Stiles tilted his head to the side, asking Hale for permission to speak when he'd rather jab him in those nicely coloured eyes. Those eyes were nice. Strange mix of colours which Stiles was sure was lamented about in some teen girl magazine.

They might look nice as a gorged out art piece on his wall. Or maybe he could sell them on eBay.

So many better options for them, than in Hales eye sockets. Looking at Stiles like _that_. Stiles could debate that proposition later. He had a bunch of rich assholes to address.

Stiles turned to look at Deucalion.

"Nothing to add, Sir." He said, polite and carrying across the room. But, the sass was real. Oops. What could he say? He couldn't help it. The presence of manipulative just sent his sass trigger off. Not his fault.

Maybe they should just stop being manipulative bastards?

...What a nice world that would be.

"Your tone implies that there might be, Mr....Stilinski?" Stiles physically had to suppress the eye roll. His eyes twitched at the effort.

"Just thinking, Sir. Nothing worth your time." He said, less sassy this time. Aware of Hale's presence beside him. Could Hale kill him right here? In front of these people?...Would it prove his power?

Was it _allowed_ amongst people like this?

Stiles suddenly felt a flare go off inside him. Memories suddenly flashing to his minds eye.

Hate. Angst. Depression. Terror. Fear.

And he felt the tense anticipation of the day suddenly come roaring back. Soaring straight though his boredom and piercing him right through the chest.

He looked around.

All these people were the same. Dark souls. Filled with greed and corruption. Like incubus for money. Filthy. Dirty.

People that weren't above anything if it came to money.

Stiles saw it in the documents. Killing a whole family. Destroying so much life in one single night.

So _easily_.

It was like the law didn't apply to these people. Like they all had a similar loophole which they jumped through constantly. Stiles wondered how much life has been lost under the radar.

Because if they weren't above killing a whole family at once, what was he? They were familiar with death, familiar with taking whatever they wanted. Only each others for blockades against their power rampage. This was so much bigger than he anticipated.

It wasn't just Hale.

It wasn't just this meeting.

He felt Deucalion on his skin. He didn't know how. The guy was blind. But Stiles felt eyes on him. Surveying him. Exposing him and picking him apart. Looking though his clothes, flesh and bone. Probing at his core.

It was one of the most invasive experiences of his life.

Stiles was on his radar now. Deucalion was _interested_ in him. He didn't just have to pretend for this meeting. He didn't just have to avoid Peter.

He was in this now.

In this world that he couldn't understand. He was on Hales side. Hale wasn't just an ally. He was the only thing stopping the rest from taking Stiles. His power was protecting Stiles indirectly. Stoping anyone from taking him.

Taking advantage of him. Using him.

...Just like he was used to bait his mother all those years ago.

He looked to Hale out the side of his eyes. Trying to starve the sudden rise in panic at the realisation of how dire this _really_ was.

He'd joked before that these guys could make him disappear.

But what they did with him then is what terrified Stiles. Would they just kill him? Dump him somewhere, never to be found by anyone that loved him? Would they use him? Use him as a little encyclopaedia in their pocket? Would they torture him? Try to drag information out of him about Hale, use his extensive memory against him?

Hale seemed aware of his panic.

"If you might excuse my intern for a moment?" He voiced. But, once again. He wasn't asking.

Stiles decided he could appreciate that just this once.

Stiles stood, a tremor in his hands. He walked up the steps as gracefully as possible, bag left on the chair. He didn't trust himself to carry anything right now.

As soon as he left the meeting hall he started running. The panic was rushing through his veins now. His heart was beating fast, becoming the only thing he could hear. Throbbing in his chest and his throat and his ears.

He stumbled into what looked like a supply closet....He just didn't want to be out in the open for this. He needed to be in a small space.

He shut the door behind him. Putting himself in the dark. He kept his eyes closed, so he could pretend the dark wasn't actually real. It was just him closing his eyes.

He felt around himself feverishly, finding cool metal.

His knees buckled, and he grabbed the metal frame. He lowered himself carefully, unable to hear or see. He was on the floor then, a wall next to his back.

A corner. Good.

He curled up tightly. Hand grasping his chest, feeling the bones of his rib cage move with his sharp, small breaths.

Stiles wedged himself as far into the corner as possible, finding support in the things that pressed back. He didn't feel the pain of a developing bruise on his back from the wooden edging on the walls.

He just clutched his chest. Trying to starve off the panic.

It wasn't easy. But he'd done this before.

He needed to feel less vulnerable. Less weak. Secure and safe. Where nobody could use him, could _hurt_ him.

He had to remind himself to breathe.

In. Out. In. Out.

But the darkness was closing in. He wasn't safe. There was always something in the dark. Waiting to take him. Use him. Destroy him.

He took out his phone shakily from his pocket, hand trembling uncontrollably. He managed to drop it on his chest, and click the home button after three tries. The lock screen lit up, spilling light into the room.

And it felt a little easier to breathe.

He swiped up with sweaty fingertips to the torch. Taping the right utility proved difficult but it gave something for him to focus on, apart from his current reality.

The torch button lit, sending light onto his torso and thighs. The lock screen turned off after a moment on auto-lock. So, he turned the phone around, holding it up to face the room. The torch light spread across the box-littered space, lighting up everything in his vision.

To protect him against the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had my first anxiety attack the other day. It was over getting a essay back that was only worth 5% less than my semester exam. I'm bad at economic essays. My feelings during that time I made into Stiles' panic attack. I assume it's similar, just more extreme? Tell me if I need to change something :)
> 
> I didn't get to finish this day in this chapter. This day had been how many chapters now? Oops?
> 
> Let me know what you think! Or any plot holes or typos.
> 
> See you next time :D


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles stumbled inside on unsteady feet, the door closing behind him. He locked it firmly, testing it. Twice. He sighed, leaning back against the door. It was weak security, hell, they didn't even have a door man. 
> 
> But every locked door between him and the world, made each breath easier to take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ready for feels?
> 
> I hope so.

Stiles didn't know he had been asleep until he was shaken awake.

It was Jackson. Looming over him, Stiles' back to the wall.

Stiles was immediately awake, adrenaline flooding his already tender nervous system. He weighed his options, thoughts and ideas rushing though his head.

Jackson. He could take Jackson. He only had a few pounds of muscle on Stiles, and the same height. But...there had been that moment earlier. Where Jackson had held him down and he couldn't get up. Couldn't move.

Couldn't fight back.

He barely noticed his heart rate jump, nor his deep breaths turning into short, sharp ones.

"Oi, Stilinski. Chill." Jackson said, but it didn't help at all. He was still looming over Stiles, cornering him. Stiles was trapped.

Stiles threw his arms out, scratching at Jackson's front like a wild animal. His nerves where frayed. He was now completely instinctual and jittery. His rational mind had fully retreated, and now he was just going to do anything to stay alive.

To stay _safe_.

"Stop it! Chill out. I'm not here to hurt you." Jackson defended, stepping back a little. Stiles drew back from him, curling up tighter to protect his vital areas. Head braced on his knees and between his arms.

"Don't touch him Jackson. He has some serious issues with physical contact. You are only making it worse." A new voice said from behind Jackson.

Peter.

Stiles hissed then. Curling tighter at the voice.

"And a issue with men, idiots. A woman's touch will surely do it." A woman's voice called. Coming closer. And Stiles did not want anything _closer_ right now. Especially not the Creeptastic Trio.

"You are all idiots. Don't go near him. We need to leave."

Hale. Of course he was here too. Stiles must have been out for a while. The meeting must have finished for him to be here. But Stiles was slowly coming back to himself. Rational mind slowly creeping back in through the fear and panic.

He was so raw.

And exhausted. He could sleep for years. Panic attacks usually drained him of everything. And he just wanted to go home and sleep.

He hoped Kira's day was exponentially better than his.

"Oi. Columbia?" Stiles heard, the deep gravel of Hales voice. And...was that concern Stiles heard? Was it even possible?

"It's late in the day. The work day is ending." Hale said. Voice still low. Neutral. But it was enough for Stiles...He could mull it over later. Now he just need to sleep.

Stiles looked up. The Trio stood in front of him, Hale at the doorway. They had expressions mixing from intrigue to boredom.

Feeling the love, here.

But then again Stiles didn't want their pity. He was glad none of them cared enough about him to pity him. That firm neutrality/dislike was going to make Stiles life a whole lot easier right now.

"Let's go." Hale said. Impatient. And Stiles could deal with impatient.

His ability to deal with things was dangerously low right now. If Hale turned into a asshole, Stiles was 100% going to punch him in the face.

But he could deal with impatience.

He stood on shaky legs, like a newborn fawn.

Jackson held out what Stiles how realised to be his own bag. Jackson avoided his gaze as he handed it to him. Stiles kept his eyes looking into the light Hale stood in.

The others slowly filed out the room, and Stiles followed, the more he walked the easier it became. He clutched his phone tightly, the torch app off.

Strange. He didn't remember turning it off.

But Stiles had a one track mind right now. He needed to focus on walking. One foot in front of the other.

...Every step taking him further away from Deucalion.

 

_Not that it would make any difference in the end._

 

......

 

Stiles weak heartedly jiggled his key in his old, sticky lock. It finally gave in, the door swinging open with a creak of the hinges.

Stiles just stood in the doorway, staring into the dark ambience of his apartment.

He hit the light immediately, the darkness disappearing within the second it took for the old electrical circuit to boot up.

He stumbled inside on unsteady feet, the door closing behind him. Stiles locked it firmly, testing it. Twice. He sighed, leaning back against the door. It was weak security, _hell,_ they didn't even have a door man. Or a working elevator for quick escape.

But every locked door between him and the world, made each breath easier to take.

...Because the world was no longer one he knew. He thought he knew the depths of the darkness this world was capable of.

But he didn't.

He _really_ didn't

Because there was something beyond his knowledge lurking. Something in this city that was bitter and evil. And in was hiding in these big companies. These big, _vicious_ companies.

Hiding in _Deucalion_.

And Stiles needed to know what it was. Because...He had a feeling, that if he didn't, he truly was going to end up dead.

His cold, abandoned body. Laying in some dark and damp alleyway dumpster. Decaying slowly, eaten by the bacteria and bugs until he was nothing. Bone and ash. Unfound. Unwanted.

A old, weathered missing sign torn by the breeze, his disfigured smiling face drooping as rain soaked the paper.

...His dad standing over an empty coffin, lowered into the ground next to his late wife.

"Stiles?" Kira stood in the archway between the entry and his kitchen, one hand on the wall. Stiles felt his legs give out, and he slid down the door. Knees up next to his eyes, bracing his head on his knee.

He could see it all now. The world. It was much deeper and darker that he could ever know. The endless darkness stretched out in front of him, and he could see no end in sight.

And he felt so cold.

Kira was next to him then, on her knees with hands on his face, pulling his head to her chest. Holding him close. Cradling him, so caring and kind. Like a mom...He'd forgotten what it felt like.

Stiles felt a tear slip from his eye.

"Oh, Stiles." She whispered. And she got it. She knew what he was feeling. She _understood_.

The world was cruel.

He held onto her then, crying openly into her chest. She held him, steadfast and strong. Taking his weight willingly, becoming his barrier to the outside world.... Protecting him from the darkness.

Kira coaxed him towards his bed, stumbling with silent tears running down his cheeks. She pulled the covers up around him, a soft and warm barrier against the cold. She climbed in behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Placing hand over his old scar. His old weakness. His vulnerability. Protecting his greatest weakness. Making soothing sounds into his ear, as she tried to will him away from the world.

And he stared into the darkness outside the window, watching silently as tears streamed down his face.

Because the world was _so_ cruel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick again :(
> 
> More chapters soon?
> 
> But I'm trying to create a atmosphere around Stiles right now of a web of danger.
> 
> Is it working?
> 
> I also know how this fic will end...pretty sure. I just need to figure out how I will get there.
> 
> <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If somebody could be able to tell him something.
> 
> ...it was the person that got him into this mess in the first place.
> 
> That's right. Good old friend Scott. He'd been ignoring Stiles over every level of communication. So, Stiles was going to be direct about this.
> 
> Because he was tired of being left in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! Look what I did!
> 
> And thankyou for all your get well wishes! I will be attending school tomorrow!
> 
> Enjoy!

"What happened yesterday." Was the words that greeted him as he walked in Hales office. It wasn't even a question. There was no question mark. Geeze.

"It was a panic attack, asshole." He said, mainly ignoring Hale as he walked past him and sat down, shuffling papers he needed for the day.

He wasn't going to sit idly by as he was overrun. He wasn't going to watch as his body was taken over by these oppressive bastards.

He wasn't going to watch his life fall apart.

He was going to get to the bottom of this. Delve out the hidden darkness the find the demons inside...Weather Hale wanted him too or not.

Because he knew Hale wasn't innocent either. He was hiding something.

And Stiles was going to find out what.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Columbia."

"Well. I'm flattered that you beautify yourself up for my viewing pleasure. But I'm afraid my schedule is too busy to spend the day staring at your face."

"I make your schedule." Hale rebutted. Watching him with feet on his desk. Actually, thinking about it. He didn't look as collected as usual. Maybe yesterday took a toll on him too.

But Stiles stopped his thoughts in his tracks.

...why did he care?

He didn't give a shit.

"Yeah. Well maybe you should ease off the workload if you want a allotted time for me to stare at your face."

"Columbia." The man stated, but it sounded a little like question. Stiles stopped shuffling papers, looking up at the man from his work.

"What _happened_ yesterday." Hale asked again. Stiles cocked a eyebrow, and Hale elaborated. "To cause the panic attack."

"...You would know." Stiles answered, eyeing him...Maybe Hale could be a source of information after all. The man stared back, but Stiles saw confusion in the cracks of his facade. Stiles stood, moving towards the man.

"I think you are aware, Hale." He took careful steps, head tilted slightly. "You seem to know what is going on in this city. Big and powerful, as you are."

Stiles knew what he was doing. But this was dangerous game. One had hadn't played on this scale before.

He was walking on a tightrope. He was pushing, prodding. He had to be delicate. Careful. If he pushed pushed Hale too far: the man was going to push him off the edge.

"You are the head honcho, aren't you?" He asked, in front of the man's desk. Trailing fingers along the shining glass surface. "You are the boss of this city. With all your power and influence."

She smirked when Hale stayed silent. Wide and predatory, all teeth and bitter humour.

"I bet everyone just falls to their knees at your presence. Give you whatever you want. You must have the key to the city, eh?" He leant forward then, pushing his long body over the desk. Getting in Hale's space, staring evenly into his eyes. Un-cowed. Unafraid.

"You are Mister Big and Strong. Mr Powerful. Mr _Hale_." He smirked. Hale seemed stunned by his boldness. He powered on. It would only be a matter of time before Hale snapped out of it.

"So?" He prompted, leaning over and accentuating himself. "What makes you all so good? What makes you so _powerful?_ "

Hale stared at him. Stiles saw the gaps widen in his façade. He was openly stunned.

Stiles was making him _crack_.

He was almost high off the feeling. But, he knew it was all fake. He knew not to get drawn in. He wasn't going to be another fool, drawn in by power so far that his sanity would never emerge.

He wasn't stupid.

But it seemed Hale was so enveloped by his confusion and shock he couldn't even answer.

Oh well. Another time. But, it sure was satisfying knowing he could get into Hale's head. And he planned on using that to his advantage in the future.

...if it ever worked a second time. Stiles leant back off the desk, smiling the smudged fingerprints it left on the previously pristine surface, smirk still on his face.

"I'll be having my break now. See you later." He smirked, winking before disappearing out the door and down the hall.

But he couldn't stop the giggle that escaped him, euphoria filling him as Lydia watched him go. Confusion painted on her face.

The score board was back up.

Hale: 2, Stiles: 2

Stiles was _back_ , baby.

 

.......

 

Today was the first time Derek had ever felt like prey. He was the predator. The top of the food chain. The Alpha. But, he'd felt like prey under that strong amber gaze.

Felt like prey to a _human_.

Columbia was a hurricane. Broken in more ways than Derek cared to look into, but with more potential than Hale could have ever foretold.

But. Hale had to be careful. The boy was pushing at his control, slipping from his hold. Hale couldn't let him slip away.

He _needed_ Columbia. He could never let him go. Not now. Because Derek was realising something special...Columbia was going the Queen in this game. The Queen to Derek's king. He wasn't a pawn or a knight. Or a bishop.

He was going to be _Derek's Queen_. Versatile. Vicious. Strong. And protected. At Derek's side, protected by Derek's power. But, once unleashed....

He could destroy the Alpha magazine.

Hale might be barred by his position of power. His position in the public eye. But the Queen was versatile. Long reaching and powerful. And, if he pushed the right way...

Columbia might just end up being the best idea Derek ever had.

 

......

 

The day had ended. Just about everyone was going home, leaving the glass building and disappearing into the city. To homes or families.

But not Stiles.

He grabbed a taxi, heading to a place he hadn't been in a while. Because he still needed answers, and his little power play earlier hadn't gotten him anything apart from a level of satisfaction.

If somebody could be able to tell him something.

...it was the person that got him into this mess in the first place.

That's right. Good old friend Scott. He'd been ignoring Stiles over every level of communication. So, Stiles was going to be direct about this.

Some old fashioned face to face.

Because Stiles had so many freaking questions it was going to make his brain explode.

And he was tired of being left in the dark.

 

........

 

Scott and Allison's house was a small, homey apartment in downtown. It was always a place like home for Stiles. He hadn't been in a month or so, giving Scott his space.

But he had now had enough.

He walked into the lobby, the Taxi disposing in a cloud of pollution. He got into the elevator, and waited patiently. Well, patiently. He was basically bouncing off the walls with anticipation

He left the elevator as it dinged, finding the apartment number. Even though he could have done it with his eyes closed.

He knocked on the door with little hesitation. And a feminine call of "One second!" answered.

The door opened then to a flustered and 6 month pregnant Allison Agent. Soon to be a McCall. But yeah. Her family was apart of the the big issues with the war. She and her dad got out before it got bad. Her mom didn't make it.

It had been a point of bonding between them. Both children that had lost their moms at a young age. It did things to you that others just couldn't understand.

"Oh, hi Stiles! Nice to see you." She said, opening the door. Stiles still saw the moment of hesitation in her body language.

Hm.

"Likewise." Stiles smiled, moving inside the home. "How's junior?"

Allison smiled, shutting the door and then laying a hand on her belly. They moved into the kitchen where she was making dinner. He sat on one of the stools and she slid him a glass of water.

"Oh. He's great! He kicked the other day, Scott cried" she said with a blissful smile. Stiles couldn't help smiling back. She was a wonderful woman, despite the legacy that followed her. Stiles was glad to know her.

"So where's Mr Cry-Baby this evening?" He asked. Watching her carefully. She looked confused, as though thinking. Stiles eyed her.

"Oh, he's not here." She said. Stiles frowned.

"Where? I haven't seen him in ages. Since I joined the Hale company."

"A Business trip...I think he said. Don't worry about it." She said.

_Got Cha._

Because if there's one thing that grabbed a Stilinski's attention, it was deflection.

"Alrighty. Well, tell him to answer his phone, okay?" He asked, tipping back the rest of his water. "I won't hold you any longer, let you get back to your dinner."

Allison smiled, nodding. He let her lead him out the door, and they bid each other goodbye. Stiles walked back to the elevator, and back out onto the dark night street.

He hailed a cab, pulling his coat tighter around him in the chilly Fall air.

"Hale building, please." He told the driver. The man barely spared him a glance. Stiles looked out the window and watch the scenery pass.

...he was getting to the bottom of this.

And he was going to do it tonight.

 

......

 

Stiles stopped the driver a few meters way from the entrance.

"Oh. I'm so silly. Forgot my files. Not really what you want with this company and-" he rambled. The driver basically threw him out. He waved at the driver as he left.

Once he was out of view, his hand dropped. And the smile fell.

That man won't think anything of it now. Probably try and delete Stiles from his memory. Another silly intern that forgot their work.

Ha.

Stiles looked up at the Hale building.

Some lights where still on, despite it being close to eleven. Some people really needed to go home.

Oh well. Worked to his advantage.

The building was open just about 24/7 due to the workaholics. Probably trying to get in Mr Hales good graces. Stiles pulled his coat up around his chin, keeping his head down as he walked towards the company.

He slid inside the glass doors without much hassle. The receptionist at the overly gigantic desk not even sparing him a second glance.

He moved on to the elevators. Going to the 70th floor.

Nobody above 70 should be here at this time of night. Only the 30-50 people really stayed. Those where the ones that had a foot in the door, and was doing everything to wedge it just that little bit wider.

Poor people.

Hale would never really recognise them.

He stepped out on floor seventy, moving quickly with a file in his hand. Head down like he was looking at it. Luckily, the floor was dark and uninhabited.

He turned towards the stairs, looking around for only a moment before disappearing through the doors that separated them from eye view.

 

He was infinitely glad that even in pompous ass buildings like this, it was still a legal requirement for them to have decent stairs.

He took a deep breath, putting away the file he was hiding behind.

Stiles started up the stairs, running as easily as his suit and coat allowed him. He almost immediately disowned his previous gladness over these stairs, as his legs began to ache and he felt flushed.

God, he _hated_ stairs.

And he seriously needed to workout. He was getting so unfit working a desk job. But somehow, he ran until reached Hales level.

Stiles took a moment to breathe, to slow his heartbeat. He needed to be quiet, and the thumping in his ears wasn't going to help.

He steeped out of the stairwell a moment later, pushing his bag behind his body and looking up for cameras.

None in sight.

But Stiles stepped carefully, the floor completely abandoned and quiet. The city was alive below, the street and restaurant lights giving enough light for Stiles to see by.

No wonder this city had extreme light pollution. Stiles could still see by the lights like a million stories up.

He crept along the edge of the wall, feeling a little like a ninja. He moved alone the wall until it moved out into the communal area.

There was a a camera in the corner, near the entrance to Hale's hallway. Stiles cursed silently, looking around. Ah. There. A desk was next to the entrance, and if he moved quick enough the camera would only see a blur. And be ridden off.

Stiles was suddenly aware of how much trouble he could get into for doing this.

He bit his lip. But it wasn't like he was stealing anything. He just wanted information from his bosses computer, by hacking it.

Yeah. That sounded so much better.

But he comforted himself with the thought that he needed to be as prepared as possible. If he was gonna be stuck with this company, he needed to know all its secrets.

So yeah. He could deal.

And just hope to god he wasn't caught.

Stiles darted into the room, taking refuge beneath a desk. He contained doing this, keeping his bag on his back and he crawled around the desks towards the one next to the entrance.

Stiles stopped there, looking around with a little peak. He grabbed his bag under his arm, and dug his feet - God he hated these shoes - into the ground. Ready to run.

He took a deep breath, and before he could wimp out, he ran.

 

.....

 

Stiles almost threw himself into Hale's office, before cursing himself for not being careful enough. Adrenaline rushed through him.

He had to suppress the smile. The danger was a little thrilling if he was going to be complete honest. But he vowed to himself not to make a habit of danger seeking.

He had his teenage years to reflect on if he ever thought that it would be a good idea.

But he was in Hales desk now, and with no small amount of satisfaction he sat in the big CEO seat. But, he didn't let himself dawdle. He had shit to do.

He immediately opened the laptop, only mildly thinking of lasers shooting out of it to fry him. When he found himself in the all clear, he set into the computer.

A password.

Hm.

Stiles thought about Hale. What would Mr Hale make his password? Nice shoes, pristine suit, clean cut stubble, nice hair.

No.

Not his appearance.

Although it was...nope. Not going there.

He was big on power, to not lose money. Hold power over everything.

Power?

The thing buzzed as he got it wrong. Stiles stayed still for a minute, but nothing else happened so he continued.

Money?

_Buzz_

Okay okay okay. Power. Money...what else....

Ah.

Control over everything. Everyone.

 _Ding_.

Stiles silently fist pumped, before catching himself and setting to work. His bag was forgetting by his side as he set into the machine.

Scrolling through worthless stat shit and Business-y stuff. He needed stuff on the inner working of the company. And Stiles knew it wasn't hidden in their business patterns.

Stiles scrolled until he found a file.

Even in the thumbnail, he could see pictures of tiny smiling faces and dark hair. It wasn't labelled. But Stiles didn't need it to be.

He had a unlabelled box too.

...It still faintly smelt of his mom's perfume.

 

Stiles moved past it quickly. He had enough respect to stay away from deep scars. He had enough of his own. Both emotional and physical.

Even had secrets. And those where not the ones Stiles had any business delving into.

Ones to do with his estimated possibility of survival, did.

He's rolled for a while, looking at endless documents filled with numbers and uninteresting stuff. Until he reach near the end.

_Bestiary_

What kinda freaking label is that? It stood out like sore thumb amongst _Spring Styles_ and _January Sale Index_.

Stiles clicked it.

 

......

 

What. The. Fuck.

Either Derek Hale was into some weird shit...or Stiles had just opened the portal to the darkness. The darkness which was a whole lot deeper than he had predicted. Darkness which he wasn't sure was even dark. Just super messed up.

Werewolves.

And it had Stiles wondering _when the fuck_ he took the red pill.

He leant back, staring at the screen intently. The screen glowed in the dark, a picture of a hairy creature staring out at him. He focused on the glow, eyes hurting at the brightness.

His mind was spinning. It was so much to take in. He was so incredibly interested, and the shock hadn't worn off yet.

He was also terrified. Because the Hale's were _werewolves_.

"Derek Hale is a werewolf." He whispered to himself. Stunned and really _freaking_ confused.

"He's not the only one."

And then the screen wasn't the only thing glowing in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND WE FINALLY HAVE IT!! Eleven chapters in and Stiles is finally figuring out the world.
> 
> I'm so pumped.
> 
> Can anyone guess who it is at the end? I thinks you'll guess first try.
> 
> See you soon :)
> 
> P.S: I was told the little asterix was annoying when reading. I don't swear, but I think Stiles would in this situation. Go back to asterix or use the swearing? Let me know <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All I need is your loyalty." The voice whispered into his ear. Suddenly, the grip on Stiles turned harsh. "But, even then your instincts will send you to do my every bidding. I don't need your permission."
> 
> Stiles felt the fear and the panic suddenly tear through him, raw and unadulterated. Tearing past the block in his throat and the stiffness in his body.
> 
> He screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are very welcome. It was intrest in seeing your guesses. Some of you got it right!
> 
> But, please. Tread carefully. You'll notice this story is now tagged with Graphic Violence.
> 
> It's not for naught.
> 
> And, honestly. It's going too get worse before it gets better.
> 
> Sorry.

"Naughty, _naughty_ boy" The glowing eyes drawled. Piercing, bright _blue_.

Stiles may be seriously new to this. But he'd read enough to know blue eyes meant. It meant the wolf had taken a innocent life.

Stiles swallowed.

The figure was suddenly next to the desk, slamming the laptop closed. Stiles was sent into darkness, and his self-preservation instincts took over. He jumped from the chair, stumbling down to the other side of the room. Trying to get as close to the door as possible so he could _get the hell out of here._

"Now now." The figure tsked. And Stiles could recognise that voice through the panic.

Peter. He was alone with creepy Peter Hale. Blind with a _werewolf_. A werewolf who just caught him snooping.

...Stiles realised his mortality had suddenly crept up on him.

He pushed himself into the wall, making himself small and putting his hands in front of himself. In front of his vulnerable neck and head.

"You really expect that to do anything?" Peter asked, and Stiles felt his arms wrenched from their protective stance.

Stiles was frozen still, complete and utter fear rolling over him. Peter was going to take him...going to hurt him and _break him and-_

"No need to worry, I won't hurt you." Peter cooed, and Stiles felt cold fingers caressing the bare skin of his neck.

Stiles stayed completely still, feeling them dance over the skin of his throat. They stopped moving, pressing lightly on his pulse point. Stiles shivered involuntarily, the cold running through him.

"You know what I'm capable of." The man said, voice low and private between them. Stiles wanted nothing more than to wrench himself out of Peter's grip.

But he couldn't move.

"I could break your neck right now, you know that?" Peter said, his other hand touching the back of his neck. He squeezed Stiles' neck playfully, and Stiles felt his heartbeat increase.

"But I'm more interested in this heartbeat. So fast, like a little hummingbird. Fluttering against my fingertips."

"You could be so much, you know that? I could make you amazing. Powerful. Wonderful...Even more beautiful." Peter said, wrenching him up the wall. Peter held his weight against the wall.

Because Stiles legs couldn't hold him.

"All I need is your loyalty." Peter whispered into his ear. Suddenly, his grip turned harsh. "But, even then your instincts will send you to do my every bidding. I don't need your _permission_."

Stiles felt the fear and the panic suddenly tear through him, raw and unadulterated. Tearing past the block in his throat and the stiffness in his body.

He _screamed_.

Peter back handed him across the face, and he was sent sprawling to the ground. He clutched his face, trying to crawl away on harshly trembling limbs.

"Pathetic." Peter spat. Grabbing Stiles by his hair, wrenching him up. He ignored Stiles cry of pain as he put his lips right next to Stiles ear. Stiles neck was craned back, head against the man's shoulder.

"I'm not like my nephew." He hissed and Stiles whimpered. "Needing permission makes you weak. Ruins the pure instincts of being Alpha. It makes him _weak_."

"You aren't the Alpha." Stiles spat, tasting blood from his split lip. Peter put a hand over his mouth, forcing Stiles' head back onto his shoulder and baring the younger man's throat.

"Not Derek's Alpha. But I have my own pack. A pack you will be apart of soon." He growled, lips on Stiles throat. Stiles knew what was coming, and he screamed against the hand over his mouth. Only a muffled sound past the hand that was tight over his mouth. He breathed hard through his nose, the angle his neck was at was restricting his ability to breathe. But it didn't hold his mind long enough, because he could _feel_ the small pinpricks of Peters fangs. 

Peter was going to change him.

He thrashed. Throwing everything he had against Peter. He didn't want this. He wanted to be human. He wanted to be himself. He didn't want to be changed irreversibly by this monster. He didn't want to be broken and reshaped by him. Didn't want to be _controlled_.

He tried to scream again, feeling sharp teeth against the pale skin of his throat. Pressing and pushing _and_ -

But then it was gone. And Stiles fell to the ground, gasping for air and feeling blood run from his lips. He scrambled to the corner, curling up against it. As far away from Peter as possible.

He turned then, watching the two figures fight by the window. There was enough light right next to the window for Stiles to see them.

And it was _terrifying_.

Hale was fighting Peter. All teeth and claws. Blood and growling. It was so surreal, extraterrestrial. There was a certain beauty to it, Stiles was sure.

But Stiles couldn't focus on that. Not when two werewolves were trying to _kill_ each other across the room.

Peter was on his knees then, Hale standing over him. Growling in his face while holding him by his hair.

"He's _mine_!" Hale growled, eyes glowing bright blue.

God.

But even Stiles, the human, could see when Peter relented, because he went limp in Hales grip. Hale dropped him to the floor in disgust. Surging forward only a second later, hitting him in the head. Knocking him out cold. Hale straightened after a moment, looking down at his uncle.

Silence.

Hale turned to look at him, face changing back, his eyes fading back to green. He didn't move, for which Stiles was thankful for.

Stiles didn't know if he could run.

"Stilinski?" Hale said. And Stiles flinched a little at his voice. It was back to normal now, but it still remind him of the feral growl from earlier.

"Nope. Nup. You don't get to call me that. All naming rights revoked." The words spilled from Stiles lips. Hale sighed, but not moving any closer.

"I..." Hale said then, apparently lost for words.

"No. You don't get to talk either." Stiles interrupted, breathing heavily. "...What did you mean when you yelled 'mine'?" He asked after a moment.

"Peter was trying to take you away from my authority. He saw your potential...and he wanted it. You, in terms of instincts, belong to me."

"I don't _belong_ to anyone." Stiles growled, and Hale only nodded. Stiles was a little surprised by his easy agreement. He looked just as shaken as Stiles right now.

Okay. Maybe not as much. Stiles was sure he looked like a hot mess.

"I know. But, you are my pack. Technically. You are mine, my family." Hale admitted. Everything was in the open now. There was no point in lying to Stiles.

"...okay." Stiles nodded, before wincing. "So I might of hacked into your computer?"

Hale just shook his head.

"It was bound to happen sometime. How did you get the passcode, though?" Hale asked. Stiles huffed, a little mystified that they were having this conversation right now. Both bloody and injured.

"Are you kidding. Anyone that knows you well enough knows what it could be." He smiled a little. Hale seemed pleased, before asking:

"Do you know me?"

Stiles thought, staring at the man. Who just saved him. Admitted he was family..pack. A word he knew had much more meaning than he knew.

"Not as well as I thought I did." Stiles admitted quietly.

 

Derek opened his mouth to reply, before sirens echoed quietly from the streets below.

"Somebody must have heard you scream." Hale said then.

"Sorry?" Stiles said. Hale shrugged.

"Saved your life." He admitted. Stiles bit the uninjured part of his lip, turning away. Thinking. He sighed, before placing his hands back on the wall to pull himself to his feet.

"Where do we go?" Stiles asked.

"My house. Leave Peter here. Claim it was a robbery. He can sort it out when he wakes up." Hale said. But he still didn't move. Stiles had enough energy to roll his eyes.

"I know you're not going to hurt me. I'm not going to run." He amended, smiling a little.

"...Because I've realised which side I'm on."

 

.......

 

Stiles and Hale somehow made it to Hale's house. Stiles was pretty sure the man drove them here. But he couldn't even remember what the front door looked like.

And he _just_ walked through it.

Stiles cast a glance around him. It was big and extremely similar to the work building. It looked like a hallowed out warehouse, with big windows and high ceilings.

They were in the old warehouse district. A long way from the gliz and glamor of upper Manhattan.

"I thought you'd live in some classy expensive apartment block like the rest." Stiles admitted as the man shut the door behind them. Hale walked past him, shrugging.

"I like the quiet."

Stiles nodded, just adding it to the suddenly massive bank of "Things I didn't know about Derek Hale."

It had been complete filled beyond all limits tonight. And it made his brain hurt.

"Just sit down. I'll get some wash cloths." Hale said, disappearing down a hall and Stiles looked at the suede couches for a moment, contemplating. _Nah_. Hale was being nice. They'd turned a new page.

So Stiles sat on the metal bar stools next to the counter. Because blood was hard to get out of fabric...And Stiles didn't exactly want to give Hale any reason to take back the life he saved tonight.

Hale was back then, wearing sweats and a worn Mets t-shirt. He placed a wash cloth and what looked like spare clothes in front of Stiles.

"Mets?" Stiles asked as he picked up the cloth. Hale shrugged.

"Used to watch them when I was in college." Stiles felt that bank of new information grow even further...and he decided he really needed to sleep.

"Nice." He said instead. Because the Mets were cool.

Stiles cleaned his lip, envious of the healed gashes on Hales arm. Everything ached. When he finished, he slipped off his torn coat and bloody dress shirt, pulling the soft t-shirt over this head.

It smelled like sandalwood.

"I think a little reintroduction is in order." Stiles said a moment later, setting down the ruined clothes. Hale turned to watch him, and Stiles held out a hand. "' _Stiles_ ' Stilinski. 23 years old. Human."

Hale looked at the hand for a moment, before taking it gently. His hand was warm and soft against Stiles' one. So different from the claws that he'd fought with earlier. With their ability to hurt and to maim.

...Because even the strong and powerful, were capable of being kind.

"Derek Hale. 30. Werewolf."

Stiles smiled, shaking the hand. "Nice to meet you, Derek."

The man smiled back a little hesitantly.

"You too, Stiles."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at this! Look at them!
> 
> Semi-friends, acquaintances that save eachother?!?
> 
> But, wait, Stiles hasn't saved Derek yet...has he?
> 
> Wink wink.
> 
> See you soon my wonderful readers <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this, another chapter?!
> 
> I'm on a roll! 
> 
> You guys are great :) Your reviews keep me going!
> 
> Enjoy :)

You would think finding out something so big would ease some of the questions bouncing around in Stiles' mind. But, Stiles was so damn curious.

Although, to be fair: _werewolves_.

And Derek was happy to answer them. But even Stiles knew there was just some things that should be let go.

Because when they had been on the topic of werewolf eyes, Stiles didn't miss how his gaze went off into the distance. Like he was remembering something painful.

So Stiles didn't ask why his eyes were blue.

But it didn't stop him from asking just about everything else.

They had migrated to the couch, Stiles firing questions about anything and everything werewolf. But, they hadn't gotten far.

Because Stiles fell asleep right there on the couch.

 

.....

 

Derek watched Stiles sleep.

In human terms, it was freaking creepy. But for a wolf it just wasn't. It was natural. Because Stiles was apart of his large pack now. He was watching over him, nothing creepy about that. But, everyone in the company was apart of his pack, his distant family, as it was. But those he worked with personally...they were his family.

Stiles was family. Pack.

Stiles had so much potential for Derek. He was a asset. A asset Derek would protect. Because Deucalion may be blind, but he still saw Stiles.

Derek hadn't missed the look of want in his expression in the meeting. He let Stiles leave because of it, not wanting that man's gaze on something that was his.

Yes, possessive much? He couldn't help it. He was a possessive, control freak. What can you do?He was also a asshole. And a Dickbag. And...whatever else Stiles cooked up in that head of his.

Oh well. He had a company to function and a past to run from.

And Stiles might just be the man to help Derek put his past behind him.

 

....

 

Stiles woke with a start.

The room was filled with light. Unlike his apartments bedroom, which faced another building and got zero sunlight.

It was sunny, light steaming down on him and warming this skin.

"...Wha?" He said, sitting up. Then he remembered yesterday.

Oh. Okay. _Werewolves_.

The world was no longer what he knew it to be. It was still dark...God, it was so dark. But Stiles knew the darkness. He knew what it held.

It didn't make it better. It just made Stiles less afraid of the night.

Although. Probably not a good thing. Because Derek told him there was some evil wolves in this city. A healthy amount of fear was what was going to keep him alive. But, yeah...

Derek. That was a thing now. Derek Hale. Mr Hale. _Derek_.

Stiles looked around, seeing only classy but comfortable furniture. High class but functional. He liked it.

He was about to call out when Derek rounded the corner out of the hall, dressed in his suit. He cast a glance at Stiles, before turning to make himself a coffee in the kitchen. Looking normal as he put coffee beans in the machine to be ground and made into fancy coffee.

This dude just being normal and making himself coffee: was a werewolf.

...That was _never_ going to sink in.

"I've given you the day off." Derek said, not turning to look at him. But Stiles knew he looked like shit.

And he opened his mouth say, 'I don't need anything from you, and I definitely don't need your pity' before he came to a realisation.

1) He was injured. And he could feel the bruises.  
2) He and Hale had turned a new page. Or started a new book?

But they were past smart-ass comments and passive aggressive dislike. They were kinda friends? Maybe? Bonded over his knowledge of Werewolves?

Who knows. But Stiles was pretty chuffed. Derek wasn't the man he thought he knew. There was so much more to him beneath the surface.

And Stiles wanted to dive into his depths and discover who Mr Hale _really_ was.

Okay. That sounded kinda weird. It made sense in his head...?

Urgh.

"Thanks." He said, standing up, infinitely glad Peter hadn't managed to hurt his legs. Oh yeah. New reason not to go to work.

3) Peter Hale was going to be there.

And the man tried to kill him/ change him yesterday. Not friendly. Do not approach. GTFO.

"Has there been any news on the 'robbery'?" He asked, sitting on the counter. He smiled a private smile when Derek slid him a glass of Expresso coffee. Not his favourite, but he needed the hit.

And Derek apparently could see that.

See? Look at this progress. Friendship was beautiful.

(But where the fuck was his best _friend_ Scott?)

"Yeah. But they are all saying nothing was taken and it has basically already blown over. People are more focused on the upcoming publication."

"Okay." Stiles nodded, before drowning the shot of pure caffeine. "Can...I ask you something?"

"Like you did until about three AM yesterday?"

"Shut up." Stiles hissed, but with no heat behind his words. "Um...you know Scott McCall?"

"Yeah. I know of him. Your best friend." Derek said, sipping his coffee. Of course he did. He used Scott to threaten Stiles originally. It had Stiles wondering just how much Derek knew about him.

Stiles breathed, and just decided to be out with it.

" _Isheawerewolf_?" He said all at once. But Derek still got it. He put down his coffee, and looked at Stiles carefully.

"Peter bit him."

Stiles swallowed.

"Like he tried to bite me?" Derek shook his head immediately.

"No. It was a accident. He went a bit out of control, bit him in the bathroom."

...What was with Hale Magazine and bathroom attacks on poor humans?

"So where is he now?" Stiles asked, voice small. Derek cocked a head at him. Stiles knew he was listening to Stiles heartbeat spike. Not fair, seriously.

"He's fine, Stiles. Learning to control himself in one of our undisclosed villas. He's got some others there with him, learning how to be a werewolf."

"He's okay? Good?" Stiles asked.

"It get weekly updates. He's almost ready to come home." Derek said, and Stiles smiled.

"So, everyone's a werewolf then?" He prodded. Derek shook his head, rolling his eyes. Stiles eyed him.

"Not _everyone_. Just some." He said, obviously not going disclose that information. But Stiles was having none of that.

"Ooh. Can I guess?" Stiles said, bouncing in his seat. Derek sipped his coffee and made a little hand signal that was universal for "go on".

"Right. Peter, obviously. And - ohmygod _Jackson_. The little dickhead went all glowy eyes on me when he attacked me on Peter's floor. I knew there was something up."

"He still hasn't been punished for attacking you. Twice."

"But he's Peters, isn't he? You don't have all that much control over him."

"Legally, yes. Everyone in the business works for me and is under my control. But, instinctually. He's not mine, no."

"I'm healed anyway." Stiles said, and Derek turned away to put their cups in the dishwasher. Stiles couldn't see his expression. "I'm more concerned out Uncle McCreeps-a-lot. These bruises ain't pretty."

"I can see that." Derek said, turning back around. Stiles accepted the light banter.

"Shut up. My beauty precedes any bruising." Stiles preened. Derek rolled his eyes. Grabbing his bag and keys. Stiles looked down at himself. He was wearing Derek's baggy clothes still.

"Let's go." Derek said, and then looked at him. "Don't worry, I'll drop you home." Stiles nodded, dancing his way over to grab his shoulder bag from next to the coffee table.

"Well, off we go then!" Stiles said with dramatic finger guns pointing at the door. A laugh rumbled out of Derek's chest.

And a small, genuine smile stretched across Stiles lips, when the laugh resonated with something deep inside his heart.

 

.....

 

"Where were you?" The words hit Stiles as soon as he walked in the door.

Stiles winced immediately. His phone had been on silent since he'd gone sneaking. Because, he watched the movies. He knew that rule no.1 of sneaking was turn off your freaking phone.

Oops?

"Ah..." Stiles thought, he could just say. 'Oh yeah, got attacked by a werewolf so Derek Hale took me back to his place and I fell asleep. Sorry?'

That just wasn't on the table.

But, then apparently he didn't have to worry about answering. Because he rounded the corner...and Kira saw his face.

"Stiles? What happened?" She said, immediately in front of him, tilting his bruised face carefully to see it in the light. Stiles let her.

And he wondered how suddenly she'd gotten past his dislike of human touch and severe distrust of others.

She was just like that, he guessed.

But now he had a question to answer. And the truth was too much.

"Went out with Scott, my best friend. I got drunk and fell over. Sorry." Stiles said, wincing because that did not sound like him. The tripping? Yes, definitely. But the drinking? No. Not a day in his life.

He guessed it was because he liked to be aware of himself at all times. To be in control of his own body and his own life. To be able to protect himself.

And he wasn't putting himself in the position where anyone could decide he was hot enough to bang. He didn't want anywhere near a vagina. Or dick for that matter.

Stranger's genitalia, go the other way please.

Stiles was having none of you.

But Kira just nodded, letting it go and releasing his face. Stiles was a little hurt that she believed he could do something like that, but then he remembered. She hardly knew him. Just his past and his scars.

But not who he _really_ was.

Because his past wasn't him. He wasn't all heartbreak and death. He was an adult now. Living thousands of miles away from home.

He had moved on with life.

And, now he knew the world for want it really was. He already knew the darkness much better than others did. But now he knew for real. Knew the darkness. And the weirdness.

He had yet to discover much light.

And he hoped that he was on his way.

That's him. Craving knowledge about everything in the world. But, it was also because he was just getting sick of the dark. Of the dark and what it did.

He didn't want that darkness to be his only memory when he was old and grey. He wanted to find the lighter side of life. Of things like happiness and love.

He just had to find somebody to get past his fear of love.

Because friends were good. Amazing. But Stiles was lonely. And Kira would find somebody to love her adoringly in the ballet school. Somebody with the same interests and career.

And it was hard for Stiles to find somebody that was going to ease him into a relationship. Not just take what they want, and leave him used and broken. He needed somebody willing to slowly tear away the fear and apprehension he had. Because he was scared of getting too close. Scared of letting somebody know him so intimately. Of letting them merge to become his other half.

He'd been fine thinking there was nobody out there for him before. But, a whole new world had opened to him. And he was going to dive into it.

And maybe, just maybe: there might be love to find for the boy scared of sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot plot plot plot!
> 
> What is this sorcery. I've never written anything successful that wasn't a sad fic before. Look how long it's getting :)
> 
> See you soon probably.
> 
> Maybe even tomorrow~


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there was something Stiles learned about life in his twenty-three years: It was that when life pushed you down. You just had to get up.
> 
> And punch it in the fucking face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I'd see you today
> 
> Enjoy~

If there was something Stiles learned about life in his twenty-three years: It was that when life pushed you down. You just had to get up.

And punch it in the fucking _face_.

 

Which was what he felt like doing to Peter Hale. Because Stiles was going back to work. Back to Derek and Peter. He really did not want anywhere near Peter, but as he said. He had to get up and punch him in the face.

And he idly wondered if Derek would actually let him, being family and all. But then again...He'd probably hold the guy down and let Stiles have at it.

Because family seemed to mean nothing where you were fighting tooth and claw. But, it had been pretty cool. Derek had _whooped_ his ass.

And Stiles wasn't going to let that go.

He won't punch Peter in the face. Instead, he was gonna be more subtle. Maybe a bit of sass...but, he was totally gonna call him out on it at every given chance.

"Hey, Peter. Remember that time your nephew whooped you ass? How'd it feel to be second best?"

Because he was, quite frankly, _done_ with him. And his goons...he just wanted Scott back. So yeah. He might not be hitting Peter. But he was gonna hit Scott, for leaving him to discover this world on his own -

_Ohmygod. Everyone freaking knew. Everyone in the damn business. Even Allison._

\- And then hug him. Because he missed him, _damn_ it.

Even if he had been zero best friend material for the past month and a bit.

 

.........

 

Walking into Derek's office was another experience all together.

He stepped in the door and the place looked pristine as ever. It always did, and apparently having Werwolves fight in it last night didn't change that fact.

It was immaculate.

And that fact had stopped bugging Stiles without him noticing it.

But maybe that was because if he saw any evidence of last night in here he was going to lose his nerve and go home.

"Stiles." Derek greeted, glancing at his over the mountain of work that was already on his desk.

And yeah... That was new.

But Stiles eyed the workload on Hales desk, before turning to look at his own desk...andd unfortunately, that detail _hadn't_ changed for little Stiles. Same old, same old.

He sighed grumpily, plopping down in his seat.

"Why is being your intern so draining?" He asked. Derek eyed him.

"Because we have a publication coming up next week. Everyone's drained, Stiles." Derek growled. Stiles immediately identified that growl as Derek's: me-need-caffeination growl.

"Oh, sorry Mr Werewolf. Didn't mean to twist the stick up your butt." Stiles stuck his tongue out, avoiding his gaze from the small mountain range of paperwork on his desk, like if he didn't see it. Maybe it might disappear.

No such luck, unfortunately.

"There is no stick up my _butt_." Derek rebutted, before smiling a little evilly. "But, talking about butts. I'll be kicking yours if my coffee is not on my desk by eight."

Yeah. That hadn't changed either.

Derek was _still_ an asshole.

 

But. Stiles thought as he ducked out of the office: with his bag on his hip and a company card beneath his fingertips.

...He realised it didn't bother him anymore.

 

........

 

Stiles had been pleasantly surprised to find Kira working when he arrived at Dereks fav coffe shop. It looked like she also decided that today was a good day to get up and punch life back in the face.

They were _so_ twining.

"Double Expresso Latte with cream, no sugar" he said again in a deep macho voice. But, Kira probably already had that stuck in her head though. It was the words that started their blossoming friendship.

Stiles tilted his head. Looking at the menu.

"And a cappuccino, please." He said. Kira lifted a eyebrow. Stiles smiled wide.

Screw Derek and his making-7x-this-per-minute shit. Stiles needed a coffee if he was going to deal with cranky pre-publication Derek Hale.

Kira smiled back. She totally got him.

"$23.10, please" she said, before her tips twitched. "And would you like to make a tip?"

Stiles high fived her right there in the middle of the coffee shop.

......

 

"So what are we looking at?" Stiles asked, sitting on the edge of Derek's desk and sipping his coffee.

Derek only narrowed his eyes at it when he walked in, saying it was coming out of Stiles wages.

...Stiles told him to shove it up his billion dollar ass.

"We are analysing Alpha magazines members, disguising it as a personality and fashion evaluation."

"So, in other words. We are throwing shade on Deucalion." Stiles stated blankly. Derek stared blankly back. But then Stiles nodded approvingly, taking a sip of his coffee. "Nice."

"Glad you approve." Derek rolled his eyes, looking back down at the work he needed to do. His desk was covered in shit, and Lydia kept coming in to add to it. Stiles was sitting on the tiniest little corner that wasn't covered by sheets and sheets of stats and information.

"So what do you need me to do?" Stiles asked, taking one of the sheets from the stack closest to him and reading it.

Derek slapped his hand. Stiles stuck his tongue out at him, but complied.

"I need you to be well versed in everything. Read through their profiles again and put in the information I give to you. You need to make sure it all adds up with what they said in the meeting."

Stiles groaned, waddling over to his desk with his coffee clutched close. He didn't wanna. His brain hurt.

And the purpling marks on his face bruised his ego. And that bruised his _soul_.

"Why would it change? Can't I just leave it?" Stiles complained. Derek evened his gaze on him.

"Because Deucalion's my rival in this city. The rival Alpha werewolf."

...Derek had neglected to mention that they were all Werewolves too. That everyone in that freaking merging Probably was apart from Stiles. But, Stiles didn't get angry. He was just too freaking tired,

"Of course he's a fuckin' werewolf." Stiles muttered, throwing himself down into his chair. "Everyone is."

"Not everyone. Lydia's not."

"What is she then?" Stiles asked, a little curious about the the sassy strawberry blonde.

"...nothing you need to know about yet. I might tell you if you get through half of that paperwork by 5pm. If not, you'll never know."

"Is...is this blackmail I detect?" Stiles asked, mock gasping as he held a hand to his heart like Derek had offended it.

"You would know all about that." Derek said. Stiles barked a laugh.

"Yeah. I wonder who introduced that into my life."

"Guess we will never know." Derek said, and turned back to his work.

Stiles flipped him off when he wasn't looking.

But then he looked back down at his desk. At the hundreds of files and sheets of paper hadn't disappeared.

And he really _wasn't_ ready to shove millions of words into his brain. He may have photographic memory, but his brain was a storage device that was filling up far too fast. Because he remembered everything: From what the lady in front of him was wearing in the coffee line this morning to what temperature it was when he looked at his phone last week at 9:36pm.

The stuff he didn't need to know but always did, didn't make any room for the stuff he _needed_ to know.

Oh thank sweet Jesus that he had coffee to help him.

Stiles went to take another sip...only to find there was nothing to meet his lips.

Stiles growled, leaping to his feet and slam dunking it into the waste basket next to his desk. He plonked back down, anger all gone to make way for the angst over losing his beloved.

He face-desked.

And Derek was laughing at him without even looking up from his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap!
> 
> But I'm curious. Where are guys all from? Have I got any New Yorkers here? Or fellow Australians?
> 
> Hey :) And I'm sorry my portrayal of New York is bad. I've never been to the US, let alone New York.
> 
> Let me know~


	15. Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You think you are the top of the food chain? The creatures of the night?" Stiles asked. He took short sharp steps towards Peter. Now glaring into his eyes a few inches away
> 
> "Oh spare me." Stiles hissed, bitter and cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles fights back, and reveals a little more than he ever intended.
> 
> Chapter inspired by: Katycat612 
> 
> Enjoy!!

It was Friday.

Thank the lord for this beautiful day of the week.

But. Today was also the day he'd been avoided all week. Derek and he had a meeting with Peter today. Derek said they need to work over some CEO stuff. And Stiles had to be there for some god-forsaken reason.

He'd rather jump out of Derek's office window.

...and it was eighty stories high.

But he was on his way to work, attempting to lighten his mood by thinking about the weekend. A rest before he had to hit the ground running at work on Monday. They were due for publishing on Wednesday. He still needed to get that work done Hale needed him to have done the other day.

And Derek refused to tell Stiles what Lydia was.

His curiosity was getting to him. His curiosity was going to get him into sticky situations, he could totally tell. Oh well. He had always been this way...But he had never pushed too far. Because he was always afraid of the dark.

But now he _knew_ the dark.

And he was going to tear apart every inch of this world, discover its secrets and uncharted territories.

Then, _maybe_ , he might find some meaning to this life.

 

.....

 

The moment Stiles walked into Derek's hallway he knew something was wrong. Jennifer and the rest were working quietly, no words between them.

And Lydia's station was absent of the fiery red head. But Stiles soldiered on.

He approached the office, watching the forms of Peter and Derek converse angrily.

Stiles stood just outside the door, watching them argue, hearing only low sounds from the semi soundproofing the solid glass had provided.

He walked in, opening the door almost soundlessly. The wolves still turned to watch him.

Stiles didn't say anything as the door closed behind him, the hands clasped together being the only proof of his nerves. Peter stared at him in a way that could only be described as _hungrily_.

"Hello." He said with a charming smile, Stiles bared his teeth at him.

"Stiles." Derek said warningly, and Stiles rolled his eyes. He hated Peter probably more than Stiles did. Hypocritical much?

"We need to go over our planning for this publication, it will be our first offence against the Alpha's. We need to make sure we have our facts straight. No good starting a battle with rusty weapons." Derek offered as Stiles sat down hesitantly on the couch. Derek and Peter sat on other couch, facing away from Derek's desk.

"What do we have?" Stiles asked Derek, turning away from Peter completely. He was just going to ignore the bastard.

"We have the basics on Deucalion, Ennis and Kali. But we need some on the Twins. At the moment. We can hardly tell the difference between the two, let alone any dirt on them."

"Right. What do I need to do?" Stiles asked. He knew this now. He wouldn't be here unless they needed him to do something.

"...we haven't made the decision _yet_ " Derek said. Stiles eyed him.

So _that_ was what they were arguing about.

"We will send you to one of their data centres. They play it old school, with paper and ink. So we need your memory to look and remember the contents of the files before putting him back and leaving." Peter said, smiling a little. Stiles ignored him completely.

"But it isn't ideal. They may never visit the centre, so they won't catch your scent until it's gone stale. But you be alone on enemy territory." Derek amended, glaring at Peter. Stiles felt a spike of pleasure form causing a rift between these two. Peter was a horrible person, and Derek wasn't turning out to be so bad. He didn't want Peter to be in Derek's head. It comforted Stiles to know that Derek wasn't afraid to fight back against him and his plans.

Derek wasn't a pawn. And neither was Stiles.

Peter didn't rule _either_ of them, not like he liked to believe he did.

"Sure. I'll go. I'm not scared." Stiles said, pretty okay with the plan. No immediate danger, but enough of a bonus to give the company an edge. Pros outweighed the cons

"Why aren't you scared?" Peter said, speaking up. Stiles rolled his eyes over to look at the man finally. Peter seemed pleased that he'd gotten Stiles to give up pretending he didn't exist. Like a annoying teenager with his petty games.

Peter was terrifying at times. But, right now...Stiles realised Peter was just empty. Fancy words and shows of power but no actual backbone. Just a werewolf who thought he knew everything, playing his petty games thinking that he had control, when he _really_ didn't.

"I have no reason to be, Peter." He answered. His heart beat the truth. He knew Derek wouldn't let him go if it was life threatening.

But then again, what wasn't life threatening in this high profile world of the supernatural?

"We are monsters, Mr Stilinski." Peter said lowly, wanting him with a glint in his eye. "We are creatures of the night. Stronger and faster than you _will_ _ever be_."

He disappeared from his spot. Stiles leapt off the couch immediately, lunging over the back of it, because he _was not_ getting pinned by a werewolf again. Not _fucking_ today. He backed away to get back his personal space...until he couldn't.

Because Peter was there, grabbing his throat. Palm pressing on his Adam's apple, fingers feeling at his pulse.

"I could break your neck in a _second_." He hissed in Stiles face, smiling evilly to show sharp teeth.

"Oi." Derek hissed, standing up and advancing on them. "That's _enough_ , Peter." He wrenched Peter away from Stiles, and the argument between them began.

But Stiles didn't need Derek's _protection_. Because Peter was just another rich bastard, with no care for others. Manipulative. Not above physical abuse to get what he wanted. Stupid, idiotic. Because he thought he knew everything. He thought he knew what a monster was. He was so up himself, talking to Stiles like he knew everything. Like he knew Stiles.

He didn't know the first thing about Stiles. Not about his past or _his mom or-_

Or the monster that took her away.

Hate swelled in Stiles' heart. He saw red. But Stiles didn't yell. He didn't scream.... He just _stopped_. Stopped fidgeting. Stopped moving. His fingers stilled his sides and he seemed to shut down on himself.

His heart beat was slow and steady, like a low background music of a video game just before you faced the boss...And both wolves seemed to pick up something was wrong through their bickering. They turned to look at him.

Stiles head was down, looking at the floor. But it wasn't submissive.

Far from it.

Because he was _angry_.

He tiled his head, looking at the Hale uncle and son. His eyes zeroed in on Peter. And his eyes turned to ice. The warm Amber had never looked colder. Never looked darker.

He chuckled, and it was dark and sickly.

Full of anger and _hate_.

"You think you're so dangerous, don't you?" Stiles asked, looking at him with those eyes. Derek stepped away from Peter a little, not willing to get between _this_ Stiles and his prey.

Smart man.

"You think you are the top of the food chain? The creatures of the night?" Stiles asked. He took short sharp steps towards Peter. Now glaring into his eyes a few inches away

"Oh _spare_ me." Stiles hissed, bitter and cold.

"What's your definition of a monster, huh?" He growled. "Teeth? Claws? Well, _news_ _flash_ for you." He hissed, stabbing a finger into the middle of Peters chest. Peter wisely didn't move. "There are worse things in this world."

Derek watched on, gut twisting at the pain he saw behind Stiles dark eyes. Stiles knew what he was taking about. Derek realised he didn't know anything about Stiles.

"You are not the Big Bad, Peter Hale. You may be a werewolf and absolute _fuck-tard_. But you have _never_ been the Big. Bad. Wolf."

"You are no better then the next person. You are all the fucking same. You are all evil bastards. Being a werewolf doesn't make you special Peter. It just gives you more choices to make other decisions. But all of you, werewolf or vampire or _a_ _fucking human_. You are all the _same_."

"And you, Peter Hale. You are fucking creepy. And a undeniable _idiot_." Stiles said then, stepping back from Peter.

"You seriously think you are the monsters?" He asked. He shook his head, closing his eyes briefly. And when he opened them again, he pinned Peter with his gaze.

"Did you kidnap a boy, barely eight? Did you hold him in a cold and dark basement? Did you wake him up with electricity running through his veins? Did you do unspeakable things to him as he slept?" His voice built with every word, emotion weighed heavy on every sentence. The cold bitter truth was now for all to see. "Did you abuse him just to hear his _screams?!"_

Stiles was crying now, fresh and hot tears running down his cheeks.

"Did you hold him hostage? Did you have him as a human shield? Did you _use_ him? Use him as a tool for your own means, uncaring as his mind fell apart?" Stiles breathed shakily.

"...Did you stab that little boy?!" He cried, voice breaking. "Did you break his mother's neck right in front of him?!" He screamed, loud and piercing.

Stiles paused for a second, breathing heavily. Derek eyes were glued to the hand that subconsciously moved to cradle his lower stomach. Like a newly discovered mother protecting her unborn child.

Peter swallowed. Derek stared.

"You think you are a monster, just because you are werewolf." He began again, voice quiet. _Broken_. He shook his head almost feverishly, eyes looking at Peter with so much sorrow. "A monster isn't what you _are_ , Peter."

"...It's what you _do_."

And then he left, head held high as he marched out of that place.

Tears blurring his vision as he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the fun didn't last long, it will be back. Promise.
> 
> Many fun ahead. A bit of badass Stiles and him being a super secret agent :3
> 
> I love this story man. It's great fun :)
> 
> (I wish everyone luck for the last episode of S5B airing Monday night. I have a feeling its gonna hurt and then end on a cliffhanger because they like to make us wait for years. May the odds be ever in your favour!)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles still recognised him as a threat.
> 
> And Derek was glad.
> 
> Because he recognised the werewolf. The animal. The Alpha. He didn't trust his body nor mind to Derek, no matter how close they gotten. Distrust still echoed within him. His body was on edge.
> 
> Good.
> 
> Because he was going to need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks who's back!
> 
> Found something new to be obbsessed about. Currently watching and re-watching these two identical twins called "Les Twins". They are the honest to god the best dancers I've seen.
> 
> But anyway.
> 
> Enjoy a little Derek and Stiles heart to heart.

Derek looked up at the old apartment building, sighing before walking inside the grungy front door.

It had been a while since he'd last been here.

But now he wasn't coming here in a fit of rage, storming in like he owned the place. It was much more humble. He kept his head down, walking up the flights of stairs to where he knew Stiles' apartment was. He was dressed in a hoodie and jeans, not his usual style.

...But he was coming here as Derek, not Mr Hale.

Because Mr Hale was not a façade that worked on Stiles.

He couldn't control every situation. He couldn't control everything. He couldn't control Stiles, period. And apparently...he couldn't control anything that happened to him.

Yesterday, last week, last month....or all those years ago. He hasn't protected Stiles at all. He hadn't controlled any of the situations that he'd been in danger in.

Because he didn't know anything about Stiles.

He thought he had a fair idea, but he'd only scraped the surface. Stiles was deep pool of experience that he didn't even know existed. Like the centre of a hotcake. Once you dug deep enough...everything just flowed like a tsunami wave. Exploding, escaping from the shell that had contained it.

And something snapped inside Stiles yesterday.

Derek couldn't just let that go. Couldn't just pretend he hadn't seen that part of Stiles. Hadn't seen him so broken.

There was so much darkness in his past.

And Derek knew none of it.

He'd seen his fair share of darkness too. But Stiles had seen it long before he did. And it wasn't even the supernatural that brought on the darkness.

It was just humans. Plain humans.

But, if anyone knew what humans could do...it was Derek. Sometimes he was more afraid of humans than his own kind.

He was fighting both the wolves and other creatures in this world...as well as the humans. Talk about suffocation.

He thought, if he worked hard enough: he could find control. Over his life and his circumstance. Find a new ground after his family had been ripped from him.

And it had worked. The business grew again. And he was on top.

But he couldn't control everything.

And especially not Stiles.

He breathed a little when he reached Stiles door. It was the same as last time, with shoes marks near the bottom from the amount of times had Stiles kicked it shut.

Derek inhaled through his nose, before lifting a hand and knocking gently.

He was grateful for the bag on his hip, unfamiliar against his skin but familiar within memory. Because it was kinda the perfect excuses after Stiles left it behind yesterday.

...with tears running down his face.

The door opened, and Derek was shocked to see a striking female figure with one hand on the door: staring at him.

"Hello?" He said. The girl was dressed in what looked to be yoga gear, looked to be probably only eighteen. But who was she? Was this was the right apartment? Derek checked the number again, before discovering he didn't have to.

"Stiles!" She called. Derek breathed, the confusion easing. "There's big and broody here to see you."

Derek eyed her at the term.

But then she was gone, ducking inside the building before appearing again with a bag over her shoulder.

"See ya." She said lightly, disappearing down the stair case in a few short and fast steps.

Derek stood.

Stiles came into view, hand on the door and not looking all too happy to see him. Derek winced at the bruise on his throat that his wide necked top did nothing to hide.

"What brings you here?" Stiles asked, seeming looking over his choice of outfit and the bag on his hip. It's significance was not lost on him. Evidently, he answered his own question, sighing and stepping out the way to let Derek in. Derek stepped inside, and Stiles moved behind him to shut the door.

Derek stood awkwardly in the entry, unsure what to say. They needed to do a whole lot of talking...but he couldn't just burst out asking him to spill his life history. See. Look at him. Thinking of others feelings.

Small talk it is.

"Girlfriend?" He asked, thinking of the girl as Stiles led him into the living room. Stiles looked guarded suddenly at the question.

(Derek _sucked_ at small talk)

Stiles got them both water, bringing it over and putting it on the coffee table.

"Asexual." He answered. Derek kept his mouth shut...because he had an idea to the reason why. God, he was so out of his comfort zone.

Stiles sat down anyway, brushing a blanket out the way and gesturing for him to do the same.

"What do you want to talk about first? Your psychotic family members or my broken body?" He asked. Derek didn't miss the bitterness in his tone.

"You aren't broken. Not from what I can see, Stiles." He said gently. But it seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

"Heh!" Stiles bitter laughed barked out. "Well I'll have you know I've done almost fifteen years of hiding it. Not even your wolfy sense can search any deeper than the surface. I'm sorry to tell you this: But you can't get in, _Mr Hale_." He spat, and Derek winced at the name. But, then Stiles anger suddenly softened. But it didn't make Derek feel any better. Because, through the anger, he couldn't have heard the angst in his voice.

"...You can't have me too."

Derek swallowed, block in his throat thickening.

"God _Stiles_." He gasped, hand tightening on his glass until it threatened to break. "I'd never do... _anything_ \- I won't hurt you. I promise I will _never_ hurt you."

It was silent for a moment, Stiles swirling the water in his glass.

"I was eight." He said, small, refusing to look at Derek. Derek's grip weakened on his glass and he sat: very, _very_ still.

"My mothers powerful and greedy boss wanted her for himself. He used me to get her, taking me from my bed." He powered on, and Derek didn't move. "He locked me in his basement. And he...he tortured me."

Derek suddenly had a image of a little Stiles, screaming and with tears running down his cheeks as a man held him down.

"Then he killed my mother." Stiles said, drinking his water after. Derek wondered if it was to soothe the tears in his throat.

He threw back the rest of the water, draining the glass and slamming it on the coffee table. He turned his body to Derek on the couch, and the CEO watched

"And he stabbed me right here." Stiles said, holding a hand over his lower stomach. Much like he did yesterday. Derek's eyes snapped down to the fabric covered skin.

"I..." He tried, but then stopped. He didn't know what to say.

But now he felt like Stiles made sense to him. He was still wild and stunning. But he wasn't an enigma. Derek felt like he knew Stiles intentions and view of the world.

Like he could trust him.

Because he didn't have a hidden agenda. He just hated people like that man that abused him and killed his mother. People like Derek postured himself as.

And Derek could harbour no ill will to the way Stiles acted around them when they met.

...he also felt guilty.

Because he set those reporters on Stiles. He humiliated him. Forced him to submit. Derek had just promised not to hurt him on a minute before.

But..he already had.

Not physically. But, he had put him in a position all too familiar to the one he had been in when he was nine. He hurt him emotionally and mentally, forcing Stiles to rise up against him...so he wouldn't end up like his mother.

God. He was an asshole...it wasn't news in itself. But now he felt like a asshole.

Stiles sighed, seeming to build up his courage at Derek silence.

"Wanna see?" Stiles said then with a little lopsided grin. Derek knew that he was being allowed to see Stiles' weakness, despite how the younger man played it off.

Derek nodded.

Stiles shuffled closer, but not within reach. Derek didn't feel offended. Stiles wasn't ready to let him within touching distance. He understood completely.

Because once upon a time he had been the monster. The monster that would do that to Stiles again.

He and Stiles may be on a new leaf...But old habits died hard. And Stiles had been hiding himself for years. Hiding behind sass and snark to keep people that tried to use him away.

Stiles still recognised him as a threat.

And Derek was glad.

Because he recognised the werewolf. The animal. The Alpha. He didn't trust his body nor his mind to Derek, no matter how close they gotten. Distrust still echoed within him. His body was on edge.

Good.

Because he was going to need it.

Stiles lifted his shirt gently, and a neat but jagged scar ran down from below his belly button to the top of his sweatpants, pulled low on his hips. He had no happy trail, the skin too disfigured to produce any hair.

Derek looked at the scar, making no movement.

If Stiles had been a girl, the knife would have ruined any chance for children. But he was male, just another one of small mercies in life.

Because he'd already been so damaged by the experience as it was.

He looked for only a moment, before he moved his eyes away and looked up at Stiles. In his eyes. At the person he was now rather than the one he been. Look at the young man. The man he was, and not his past.

His weakness was not something to be gawked at, nor studied intensely. It was a fragile part of Stiles, something he'd worked so hard to hide. The physical injury to the internal war of emotion that had been happening for almost fifteen years.

Derek hadn't suffered for nearly that long.

And he hadn't allowed himself to grieve either.

 

"My whole family was burned in their beds" he said gently, leaning back as Stiles pulled his shirt back down.

And Stiles didn't say anything. You couldn't. Sorry didn't help, and 'I understand' didn't make the pain go away.

Because Stiles _knew_.

They both knew. The pain and the agony. The hole ripped in your heart. The absence of your loved one in everywhere you looked.

Stiles just leant forward, grasping Derek's hand in his own gently. Gingerly sliding his fingers into Derek's palm and down his wrist, wrapping his hand in the older man's.

Derek snapped out of this memories, looking up at Stiles' face.

They were so different. In age and status and almost everything. Hell, they weren't even the same _species_.

But the pain was everywhere in this world. Felt by every living organism. From the pain of injury of a bug or the angst of loosing somebody you loved from a human. Grief was just one of those things that translated directly. The thing that once you felt, you knew.

Derek squeezed Stiles hand back, smiling gently.

...Because grief was universal.

And Stiles smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> Thankyou for your reviews everyone. They give me so much motivation!
> 
> See you guys later with some Stiles bad-assery~


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you saying Peter's not a alpha?"
> 
> Lydia's expression closed, and she looked out the window. Stiles sighed, unsatisfied. But he relented. They were hiding something...He'd have to ask somebody else.
> 
> "Don't dig too deep Stiles." She said then, turning to look at him with knowledgeable, forlorn eyes.
> 
> "Some things are better left in the dark."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, young ones: I is back. 
> 
> I've been writing a 'Fury' Alternate Universe Fic for Teen Wolf. It's sad, violent, bittersweet and angry. It's taking a lot from me. I'm only halfway done.
> 
> Here's another chapter. I've planned everything out now, and this stories ending actually makes me so happy. Just the way it turned out! Everything just slides into place and...askfjr. I can't wait.
> 
> But...I still have to write everything in between.
> 
> And I have to say...it gets worse before it gets better. But I hope they get the justice they deserve.
> 
> Enjoy :)

Life returned relatively back to normal.

The media had finally lost interest in Stiles, the passage that was usually about him now filled with "Mr Hales Fashion" and "What Mr Hale finds attractive in a woman."

Stiles knew for a fact that Derek had never done a interview with this magazine in the time Stiles had been there. They would have no idea what he found attractive: they just made it up.

He wondered how Derek dealt with this bullshit.

Stiles realised that the media probably lost interest with him in the past week or so, after the big meeting. He'd been placed into the company, absorbed into the masses under Derek's command.

He just wasn't that interesting anymore. Because he wasn't giving them anything to be interested about. There hadn't been any camera or interview-y type people outside his apartment since his first day.

And Stiles was certainly happy about that.

He'd just never really thought of it before. Never had time to check some of the social medias he'd downloaded onto his phone when he joined the industry.

Well, didn't have time and didn't really care.

He thought he'd be concerned what they would say about him. But, now he had realised he had the protection from the Alpha Wolf of New York City.

He had an ally.

...A friend.

Because, now, Stiles wasn't alone.

He was in a big city with millions of people. Living separate lives and struggling to come out on top, some prepared to climb over others to get there. It was large and unforgiving. It was dark.

But Stiles had found shelter in Derek's Hales light.

 

........

 

"Wait, hold up."

Stiles and Lydia were in the car on the way to work. Stiles didn't really know why he was being picked up. But he guessed since today was the big day Derek would want to make sure he'd be there on time

Stiles thought he might take advantage of the time with Lydia, but she still adamantly refused to tell Stiles what she was.

Damn.

But, something else had come to mind.

"Both Derek and Peter's eyes are blue."

Lydia looked shocked.

"Aren't alphas eyes red?" He amended realising what he was implying. Lydia sighed, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"That's something you better ask Scott about when he gets back. Don't tell anyone I sent you."

Stiles nodded, before frowning.

"Derek said Peter bit Jackson. When did that happen?"

"Peter?" Lydia pondered. "Huh."

"What?"

"You think Peter is an alpha?"

"Ah, yeah?" Stiles said, looking at her intently. "Derek said he bit him in the bathroom."

Lydia looked momentarily conflicted, before she sighed.

"Look, all you need to know is Peter did some horrible things, and a lot of us don't really know what happened. Mr Hale made Peter stop. He disappeared for a few months, and he was back like he is now."

"Like what? Are you saying he's not a alpha?"

Lydia's expression closed, and she looked out the window. Stiles sighed, unsatisfied. But he relented. They were hiding something...He'd have to ask somebody else.

"Why is this so screwed up?" He asked instead. Lydia just shrugged, still not looking at him.

"Secrets are what we are, Stiles. We are myths and legends fitting in with modern day society. We stay hidden in plain sight."

Stiles kept his mouth shut.

"Don't dig too deep Stiles." She said, turning to look at him with forlorn eyes.

"Some things are better left in the dark."

 

......

 

Stiles walked up towards the hallway, seeing Lydia at her desk. Stiles was so sure she was like a fairy or something and that she flew here. All Stiles did was pee, and yet she was at her desk. Already.

But then all thoughts faded when he saw who was leaning over the desk and talking to her.

Stiles' eyes narrowed as Peter looked up at him a sly grin on his face. Stiles ignored him, looking behind Peter into the glass room as he walked towards them.

"Hello, little human"

Stiles didn't even look at him, not giving him the outburst he wanted. He simply adjusted his bag, freeing his hand.

He flipped Peter off as he walked past. 

Lydia's laughter echoed behind him as he entered the office.

 

.....

 

Stiles had a hood thrown at him as he walked in the door.

Derek had a hand to his ear, ordering something to the person on the other side of the line. He walked away from Stiles, going to a switch Stiles didn't even know existed and pressing something. The shades on the windows started lowering at his apparent command.

Stiles rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

Derek was in boss mode. It was what Stiles liked to call the 'I'm-really-stressed-so-I'm-going-make-everyone-else-stressed-around-me' mood.

It was so great.

But at least somebody was making sure Stiles wasn't gonna die doing this.

Stiles dropped his bag onto the couch, pulling off his suit jacket and placing it on top of his bag. He pulled the hoodie on over his head, noticing the familiar woodsy scent of it.

"Are you trying to scent mark me Derek?" He asked. Derek's shoulders tensed for a moment, before he muttered a hasty 'bye' to the person on the line.

Derek turned to look at him, and Stiles stuck his arms out straight as his sides. Signifying the hoodie that was three sizes too big on him but probably fit Derek snugly.

"Not exactly." Derek said, advancing over to his desk and flipping through something. Stiles smiled a little, because now he was looking for something to keep his hands busy. And avoid looking at Stiles.

He rolled his eyes again.

"I don't care Derek. I'm not the one with the super sniffer, it doesn't matter to me." Derek's shouldered relaxed, but he made no indication he'd heard Stiles.

"But." Stiles added, and Derek watched him carefully. "I'd like to know why this is necessary."

"It's to make sure that if they do come for you somewhere down the line, they will know I sent you. They will smell you, but they will also smell me."

"So you're putting yourself on the potential target list too."

"If they want to take up the situation, they will have to bring me into it too. With my scent so prominent on you, it would be like I was messing with their territory too. Their instincts won't be able to handle only grabbing you, minds screaming at them that they let one go."

"...So you're saying the more 'Eau de Derek' I wear, the more safe I will be?" Stiles summarised. Derek sighed.

"In theory."

"Well." Stiles said. "I don't feel like dying today so lather me up."

"...What." Derek stated. He was back to being unable to use question marks.

"Y'know, Hug. Cuddle. Snuggle." Stiles said, stepping up close to Derek and opening his arms. Derek looked at him like he was being ridiculous, and Stiles didn't know if it was the overly large hoodie or his words.

Probably both.

"I don't _cuddle_ , Stiles." Derek said like the very suggestion was absurd.

"Naw, Der Bear! Embrace meee~." Stiles pouted, and Derek stopped very still. Stiles' eyes narrowed, picking up the movement.

Ah.

"Awww! Der Bear!" Stiles sang, arms flapping at his sides. Derek's eye twitched. Stiles had found a nerve!

He couldn't help but revel in it. This was like his life goal a month ago, and that desire had never really left him. How could it? Especially when Derek was looking all so uncomfortable.

"If I hug you will you promise to never call me that abomination again?"

"Promise." Stiles said immediately. Derek's eyes narrowed, and Stiles smiled innocently.

Derek grabbed him then, and Stiles was completely thrown off by it because the hold was violent and fast. He stumbled into Derek, tripping over his own feet. But, then the man's arms wrapped around him...and he was shocked.

Derek was so _warm_.

It was a perfect representation of Derek as a person. Harsh and confronting at first, but once you got that little bit closer it all that fell away. And he was just big and warm.

A cuddle bear.

His arms were firm with muscle, but not uncomfortable against his back. His chest was hard, but not unforgiving.

Stiles hesitantly snaked his arms around the older man's back.

They stood like that for a minute, Stiles both shocked and revelling in the warm contact. Just as Stiles started to feel the air around them become awkward, he smiled evilly.

"You're just so cuddly and warm, Der Bear!" He said against the man's chest. Stiles grinned even wider as he felt the growl rise as a vibration in Derek's chest.

Derek pushed him away, and Stiles let himself be pushed, laughing as he fell back onto the couch. He laid there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, before pulling himself up onto his elbows to look at Derek.

Derek stood next to the windows, glowering at him with his arms crossed over his chest.

This man was Mr Hale, the most powerful man in New York City. Seen in very magazine and on every street corner. The alpha werewolf.

And here he was.

Pouting. Like a little kid that didn't get the toy he wanted. The toddler that refused to have a nap.

Derek curled his lip.

And that did it for Stiles. He burst out laughing, falling back against the couch as his body seized in laughter. He held a hand to his belly, feeling the muscles spasm as he laughed. He brought his other hand to his forehead, wiping away the tears from his eyes.

It was nice to hold his stomach and remember something other than bad memories.

"Ah..." A voice echoed from the door. Stiles was still grinning as he arched his head too look back at the door. Lydia stood there in the frame, and her eyes strayed from him to Derek in confusion.

A sly smile spread across her lips.

"Well aren't you a little grumpy princess, Mr Hale." Lydia grinned. Stiles snorted, descending into hysteric giggles at her words.

"Aren't we supposed to be doing work?" Derek tried, but Stiles couldn't stop laughing: imagining Derek in a little princess outfit, tiara and all.

And as Stiles laid there laughing: he realised how much he loved these people. They were strange, supernatural, and assholes like 86% of the time...

But they were _his_ assholes.

And nobody could take that from him.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's with Jackson?" He asked. Lydia shrugged, moving around to fiddle with something at his back.
> 
> "Some douchebag thing I'm sure." Lydia muttered, not looking up from her work, before she rose her voice a little. "I'm not interested in puppies, I prefer a -" She tugged something harshly near his ass "-real man."
> 
> Stiles rose a eyebrow and the sneer Jackson made at the move, whipping his eyes away like he couldn't watch anymore.
> 
> "Was that for his benefit or mine? Because I'm sorry to say: I'm not-"
> 
> "Oh, I know." She said again, back to the low volume. Stiles breathed. "Don't worry, I was just getting annoyed at the eyes he was making."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short as hell, but Im getting back into the swing of things. My exams are nearing the end, and the stress is decreasing. Woohoo! 
> 
> Sorry for the wait. But I've writen the ending in its entirety. I love it to pieces, I just makes me so happy. Because, as you know: it always gets worse before it gets better when I exist. But the pain is needed to make the ending so nice.
> 
> So yeah. Stiles is gonna do some cool shit soon and hopefully not mess up.

"Almost done, Stiles." Lydia said, prodding over his lean body methodically. If Stiles had been any other man, he would have marvelled at her soft and efficient touch down his abdomen and around his thighs.

And maybe he would have, if this had been another place or time. Another life.

But this wasn't it.

This was the world of the greedy and the selfish. And unfortunately, now, Stiles couldn't even have the small things.

Lydia fastened what Stiles liked the call the 'ninja suit' up his chest, zipping it up to his chin. It was basically what looked like a wetsuit: with thin but durable black material covering him from head to toe.

Stiles was just thankful he didn't have to wear those fuckin work shoes. He still hated the rich and snobby aura they omitted.

Or maybe that was just the smell of his feet.

Lydia pulled something, and Stiles went with her grip, unstable on his feet. Lydia put a hand against his abdomen to stabilise him without even looking up from where she was pulling at some strap on his outer thigh.

Stiles looked around, bored. Derek was talking in low tones with McCreeps-a-lot. Jackson was staring at Lydia and Stiles with something akin to jealousy.

Wait, what?

Stiles doubled back, looking at Jackson quizzically. He was staring at where Lydia was touching Stiles' thigh.

"Ah, Lydia?" He whispered, low, at the tone he had discovered even werewolves couldn't hear. He could barely hear himself, though.

"Hm?" Lydia hummed, just as quiet.

"What's with Jackson?" He asked. Lydia shrugged, moving around to fiddle with something at his back.

"Some douchebag thing I'm sure." Lydia muttered, not looking up from her work, before she rose her voice a little. "I'm not interested in puppies, I prefer a -" She tugged something harshly near his ass "- _real_ man."

Stiles rose a eyebrow and the sneer Jackson made at the move, whipping his eyes away like he couldn't watch anymore.

"Was that for his benefit or mine? Because I'm sorry to say: I'm not-"

"Oh, I know." She said again, back to the low volume. Stiles breathed. "Don't worry, I was just getting annoyed at the eyes he was making."

"Righto, my homie." Stiles said, because he's a terrible person. Lydia snorted delicately, standing up in front of him after patting him down again.

Stiles rolled his eyes as she let her hand linger on his chest.

Jackson actually growled from across the room.

Lydia grinned at him, taking her hands off him. Stiles grinned back.

"Your suit will allow you freedom of movement and high durability. This trip is going to be a lot of work Stiles, both physical and mental. The information centre may be a bit behind in the times but that doesn't mean you can walk through the front door. The harness is already imbedded in the suit, so all you need to do is clip it up when you need to drop out of the vent in the specified room.

Stiles just nodded, deciding not to make a mission impossible statement and instead making sure to store in the part of his memory which he actually cared about.

"Oh, and be careful." Lydia added, looking up at him despite her high heels. Stiles raised a eyebrow.

"Naw, so unlike you my ice queen."

"Not just me, idiot. Derek." Lydia muttered, voice dropping at the man's name. Stiles cocked his head slightly in question.

"He's been tense all morning. I've known him longer, so don't let his little facade fool you: I can tell he's worried about you." Stiles bit his lip. Lydia smirked.

"So don't fuck up." She said, and turned away with her long hair flipping out behind her. Stiles smiled, rolling his neck. He cleared his head, bringing focus to mind.

He could do this.

For Derek.

...For _everyone_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. That's all off now. More soon probs.
> 
> But, if you feel inclined, I've finished my Teen wolf AU named "Fury" (which is why me getting back into this took so long) So, if you like some war or pack feels...it's over there :)
> 
> Also, Stiles is asexual. I'ma straight female so I have no idea what I'm doing. If I'm doing it wrong, Plz tell me: but also keep in mind that it's apart of this story. I don't know I'm doing most of the time.
> 
> Otherwise, see you later~


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People relied so heavily on software to protect their businesses, in this age of technology. Plus, Their information hold was barely visited by the wolves, as it was beneath them. So, it left a gap for a little human disruption.
> 
> Meaning Stiles.
> 
> Stiles was gonna fuck some shit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup home dogs
> 
> I is back :) 
> 
> I've been writing the future chapters in the last week a bit. The ending just got better and it's so cute I'm gonna die. Legit fangirling like a twelve year old as I write it.
> 
> The climax of the narrative also got both worse and better. But, let's not talk abut that.
> 
> Stiles finally invades the info place, after like many chapters of lead up~
> 
> Enjoy! P.S: THANKYOU FOR 1000 KUDOS I LOVE YOU 
> 
> WARNING: Blood

As Stiles and Lydia moved over to the group, the conversation stopped between Peter and Derek.

Lydia rolled her eyes at them, sitting delicately on the edge of the couch. Stiles, on the other hand, threw himself down like the ungraceful piece of shit he was.

Derek, sitting on the couch beside him, struck out with his hand, snaking it beneath the harness around his waist. Stiles tried his best not to shout as Derek pulled him across the couch as though he weighed nothing, slamming against Derek's side with no small force.

Stiles hissed at him, punching him on the thigh in retaliation. Derek eyed him from the corner of his eye, Stiles curled his lip at him, but said nothing. Yes, Derek wanted his scent on Stiles. He got that.

But, he didn't have to be a asshole about it. Stiles knew Derek could throw him around like a rag doll, no need to assert dominance. He watched Derek as Peter began speaking about the plan. He half listened as Derek rubbed his wrist against the hollow of Stiles' throat.

He smiled.

Because he realised Jackson wasn't the only one getting jealous.

Stiles did his best not to burst out laughing at the adolescence of it all. He nudged Derek instead, and sent a private smile at Lydia.

She noticed to, grinning at him. Stiles wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

That apparently did it for her and she burst out laughing, almost falling off the edge of the chair.

But in true Lydia style, she still managed to hit Jackson over the head when he told her to shut up. Stiles started laughing when Jackson puffed up like a red faced blowfish.

They didn't stop until Peter told them to shut the fuck up.

Stiles blew a raspberry at him, but shut up all the same.

 

.....

 

They were finishing up, putting the James Bond earpieces in and polishing up the details. Jackson disappeared already.

Stiles played with the plugs in his ears as Lydia threw Derek's long hoodie over his shoulders. They had to walk past the lower levels, and in a company as big as this they couldn't trust anyone.

He let go of his ear, moving to put his arms through the hoodie. He zipped it up to his chin, chucking the hood over his head.

The thing came down to the middle of his thighs since he didn't have Derek's bulkier build, so he looked like a elementary school student wearing their older siblings clothes.

Oh well.

At least you could only see his legs, and it just looked like he was wearing some funky skinny jeans rather than a ninja bodysuit. He cracked his knuckles, everyone looking expectantly at him.

"Aright, let's do this." He said, and Lydia smiled confidently at him.

He began walking out of the office, Lydia behind him, when Derek grabbed his arm. Stiles let himself tugged.

"Don't fall, my Queen." Derek whispered dramatically in his ear. Stiles rolled his eyes affectionately.

"Yeah, yeah. We get it." Stiles walked past, literally pushing his hand into Derek's face. Derek let himself be pushed back, if only because of the shock. "You better have my throne waiting for me when I get back, asshole."

"Little bastard." Derek snapped, eying him. Stiles just smiled over his shoulder as Derek pouted.

He blew a kiss, strutting away.

"Love you too darling~"

 

.....

 

 _Fuck_.

This was fucking _hard_.

It was cool for only the first two minutes. And then he started crawling.

Since then it had been hell.

His knees rubbed painfully with every inch he moved, and his elbows were grazing despite the material that covered them. And he had to ensure to be quiet. And quiet was not a Stiles Stilinski trait.

But...he had said he needed to do some fitness, didn't he?

Then again, this was def not what he had in mind. He was imagining peaceful runs in Central Park, not crawling through a small air vent in some dusty old building.

Ah, _fuck_....Now he needed to sneeze. Stiles stopped moving, grabbing his nose with both hands.

"Pineapple pineapple pineapple-"

"What the _hell_ are you doing, Stiles?!" Derek's voice was in his ear.

"-apple pineapple pineapple...argh...ARGH..." Nothing. Absolutely _nothing_. Talk about an anticlimax.

"What." Derek wasn't using his question marks again.

"I was sneezing, asshole." Stiles muttered, twisting his nose as the last of the sneeze fled.

"So your first thought was to say pineapple over and over." Derek stated.

"Ay, it worked, didn't it?" Stiles said. Derek sighed, and Stiles could see him holding his head in his hands. The image made Stiles smile.

"You've probably made enough noise now. Move before some stray human guard decides to investigate why the air conditioner kept saying pineapple."

Stiles tried not to giggle, moving forward. His knees complained and his elbows ached, but he went on.

 

.....

 

People relied so heavily on software to protect their businesses, in this age of technology. Plus, Their information hold was barely visited by the wolves, as it was beneath them. So, it left a gap for a little human disruption.

Meaning Stiles.

Stiles was gonna fuck some shit up.

He climbed down carefully from the designated vent, feeling like a ninja but surely looking like a baby giraffe. Stiles landed on the floor, reaching up to slide the vent back. He looked around then, for the computer looking thing.

"The monitor Stiles. It's a monitor." Lydia muttered. Stiles grinned. "Follow the pretty lights."

"Yes m'am." He said, and Stiles new Lydia could hear the shit eating grin in his voice. He found the machine, looking bright in the room full of paper and files.

"All I need to do is open the page, read it, then leave?"

"The twins, Stiles. Find the pages on them, memorise it, then leave." Derek said. Stiles nodded absentmindedly, moving over to the monitor.

"Stiles?" Derek said, and Stiles realised he didn't answer verbally. Idiot.

"Ya." He said, fingers moving over the keyboard efficiently. They legit had only a password on it.

"What's the password?" He asked, opening up the icon.

"...one sec...wait, that _can't_ -" Dereks voice cut off. Stiles stood up ramrod straight.

"It's 'Kate Argent', Stiles. Put it in and hurry up." Lydia said, and Stiles picked up on the urgency in her voice. He hurried up.

Stiles found the files, sitting clear on the desktop. Stiles was sure it was supposed to be a whole lot harder than this.

Unless...

He read the files as quick as he could, ensuring he read every little piece. His memory would not help if he didn't even read it first. He finished up as fast as he could, but it was still almost ten minutes long. Each minutes passed like the slowest in his life...And still no sound came from his earplugs.

Stiles felt a shiver run through him, like featherlight touches up his spine, and he turned.

...He found nothing in his sight but shadows.

It was then that Stiles decided he was well and truly _done_ here.

He ran over to the vent, dragging a filing cabinet with him. He clambered up, sounding all too like an elephant but uncaring in the sudden raging and consuming desire to get out.

He opened the vent, and climbed in eagerly with nowhere near the amount of care he exited it with. With the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he didn't feel the razor-sharp edge of the metal opening cut through is outfit and down the length of his hip.

Stiles grabbed reached out of the opening, pulling up the vent. It clanged shut, the sound echoing loudly.

But Stiles was already moving.

He moved fast, and his elbows and knees didn't have the time to complain. It felt like the sides were moving closer with every metre he clambered, shutting him in. Trapping him in this place.

He wanted _out_.

The afternoon light began to illuminate his surroundings, brighter and brighter with every move. He felt the rising panic recede.

The opening dropped out to the street. Stiles jumped as soon as he got the chance, rolling onto the floor. His ankle twanged, but he paid it no mind.

Stiles ran to jump in the non-distinctive van sitting there. Jackson slammed his foot on the accelerator, pulling out into the busy traffic. Stiles was only just slamming the door shut as they tore off down the street.

He sat down on the seats lining the wall of the van. His breathing echoed in his own ears.

...and only then did he realise he was bleeding heavily.

 

.....

 

Jackson pulled into the underground car park beneath the Hale building, sliding his staff card through the slots in ease.

The van stopped, and Stiles did his best to breathe evenly. The adrenaline was complete gone, and Stiles could feel everything. It was a good thing he had a higher pain tolerance than normal. It hurt, damnit.

Jackson was out of the van before Stiles realised. Stiles laid down, being too much effort to keep his head up. That's what you were supposed to do right? Kept his head at the same level as his heart so he wouldn't faint?

Eh. He wasn't a doctor.

But hopefully there was somebody in the general vicinity who knew how to patch him up. He'd lost a fair bit of blood.

"Come on, Stilinski." Jackson said, having noticed Stiles wasn't following him. "We have to go see what's up."

Seemed he wasn't getting any feed from his earpiece either.

Stiles tried to answer Jackson, but he was too busy fighting his eyelids.

" _Stilinski_ " Jackson said, firmer. Stiles would have thought he'd just leave him behind. Peter must be teaching him manners, but, then again: Peter had no manners. So how was he teaching Jackson if he didn't have any himself?

Peter was Jackson's alpha, right? In charge of his very little move like a untrained pup.  _Urgh_. Not the time for vexing questions, Stilinski. Focus on staying awake.

"Oi." Jackson said, and the vans backdoors swung open. Stiles opened one eye to look at Jackson from where he lay.

"Fucking hell!" Jackson cried, staring at the blood that was spread red over the seating and dripping down onto the metal industrial floor.

Within seconds he was inside and hovering over Stiles.

"When the hell did this happen? Did anyone find you?" Jackson said, looking him over for the injury.

"Nup." Stiles said, and then he giggled.

"Oh fuck. Hale's gonna kill me." Jackson said, looking around as he tried to develop a plan.

"Hale. Too many Hales. Too little Hales. What's the difference? Donno." Stiles was spewing nonsense.

But it stopped when Jackson found the wound. Stiles almost started crying right there. He was pretty sure a single tear escaped. The little bastard. Get back in here.

"Sorry." Jackson said, and it was confusing because he sounded sincere. Stiles just nodded, unable to do anything else.

He was uber tired, man. Like, sleep for a century kind. Now would be a really good time to be Sleeping Beauty. Stiles felt something fall over him before everything shifted.

"For somebody so tall, your kinda light." Jackson picked him up. Like a princess.

Like Sleeping Beauty.

"If I'm Sleeping Beauty, can I sleep?" Stiles asked, Jackson just looked at him, through the material over him, like he wasn't making sense.

"Shut up and stay awake." He said. Stiles rolled his eyes. Stupid werewolf.

Jackson climbed out of the van, kicking the door shut. They wouldn't want a lower member of staff finding a bloody van would they?

Stiles felt a hand press onto his wound. He tried to yell, but his voice was muffled by a shoulder. All that aired was a muffled, disgruntled sound.

"I'm sorry, I have to stop the bleeding before we get you to Lydia."

Good-o. Lydia would fix him.

Stiles noticed the shoulder was warm. In his exhaustion he had very little care that it was Jackson's shoulder. He rested his head against the shoulder. But, because he was a little shit, he did everything Jackson told him not to do.

And he passed out.

 

......

 

Stiles woke up to find somebody learning over him.

"You are not Lydia." Was the first thing that came from his mouth. The dude chuckled, and kept pressing something against his suprisingly numb and painfree side.

His vision cleared, and he was not exactly happy about what he saw.

"Peter. Why aren't you Lydia?" Stiles asked. Peter huffed, and the pressure on his side lifted.

"Because I have proper medical qualifications." Peter answered, but Stiles just sighed.

He looked down at himself, noticing he was wearing only his boxers and Derek's hoodie. The ninja suit was gone.

"Who changed me?" Stiles asked as Peter pulled the hoodie back down over his wound. It was covered in a large plaster now.

"Ah, Lydia." Peter said. Stiles frowned.

"You had to think about that."

Peter just shrugged, and Stiles didn't have time to rebut when Derek walked in, Lydia at his side.

"Up top, Mr H!" Stiles grinned at the sight of the man's as his uncle was winding a pressure bandage around Stiles' ankle. He held his had up for a high five, but Derek didn't take it.

He sat down next to Stiles on the couch instead, worry in his eyes

"Hale, Stiles. Hale" he said absentmindedly. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine. I've got what you needed, so no harm done, yeah?" Stiles smiled, resting his head back and momentarily blocking his view of Derek.

So he didn't see the rush of guilt cross Derek's face.

"Yeah." Peter said lowly, and Stiles didn't notice the way he looked at Derek. "No harm done."

 

.......

 

"Do they know?"

"Oh, they know." Derek said, and something warm grew in Stiles chest at the sight of his pleased smile. Derek was proud of him.

...and Stiles didn't know why that suddenly meant so much to him.

"So what now?" Stiles asked instead. He could think about that traitorous warmth in his chest later.

"Now we play the waiting game, it's all we can do. But we have to be ready, because they will pick any weakness and exploit it."

"Cool." Stiles nodded

"No, Stiles: I mean it. Be _careful_." And Stiles felt the intent in Derek's suddenly sharp gaze. "It isn't just business Stiles, it's power. Don't underestimate how far the Alphas will go for the power I have."

Stiles swallowed, before grinning fiercely.

"We will be waiting for it."

 

.......

 

Derek sat in the darkness of his office.

The shining numbers of his sleek desk clock ticked over. It was now midnight. And yet, Derek still sat. The city below was filled with artificial colourful flickering lights from the numerous bars and clubs still in action.

But in here, it was only quiet.

Derek flicked the pen in his hand, taping the desk. He flipped it back. Then he did it again. And again.

Tap...Tap... _clang_.

Derek dropped the pen on his desk, and stood up in a smooth succession. The shadows followed his movement, only the moon lighting his features. He moved over to the window with little sound, but still all to loud for him.

He stared at the full moon.

And he tried to ignore to guilt eating away at him.

Because while Stiles was impatient and stubborn, he was also brutally honest. His trust was hard to earn but one to treasure. He _trusted_ Derek.

And Derek was a _fucking_ liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muhahaha~ 
> 
> What has he done? What will he do?
> 
> You will have to wait to find out!
> 
> Bye bye :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confusion warred over Stiles mind, and yet through it all...the beginnings of ice cold betrayal seemed to seep in.
> 
> And Stiles needed answers.
> 
> Now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys.
> 
> Remember when I said it get worse before it gets better?
> 
> That starts now.

"Sup bro!"

Stiles stared, standing in the door of his apartment wearing nothing but sweatpants.

"Oh my god." Stiles said, and then he was flying through the air and crashing into his best friend.

...because he had never realised how much he missed Scott.

He hung off his best friend, and the boy that was usually the meeker of the too held his entire body weight like he weighed nothing.

Because, yeah: He was a werewolf now.

Stiles eventually got off Scott, pulling him inside his little apartment. Kira was out at work, while he had the day off after his escapades yesterday.

"Want to tell me why there is a massive plaster on your side?" Scott said, swinging himself onto the couch.

Stiles just shrugged, sitting down with the same amount of finesse as Scott. Except...Scott still seemed to make it look more graceful.

Stupid werewolves.

"You're looking good." Stiles complemented. And he did. Stiles was just glad becoming a werewolf hadn't changed him.

"Yeah, Derek was really good. Got me all sorted out in the end. I think being his wolf would be not too bad."

"What?" Stiles huffed, resting his head back. "Like Peter would give you up so easily."

"Peter is not an alpha, Stiles." Scott said carefully.

But it didn't stop the suddenly stab of ice crawling into Stiles' chest.

"Derek." Stiles said, and the ice was crawling up his throat. "There can only be one alpha...oh my god I've been so naive."

"No, Stiles. It's okay-"

It really wasn't.

"Please, go, Scott. I can't...I can't right now." Stiles whispered, holdings his legs to his chest and feeling exposed.

"Stiles, I can't leave you-"

"Go." Stiles said, before his voice softened. "I'll come over later when I'm ready okay?"

Scott's determination was intense, but he seemed to know that this wasn't a battle to be fought. He always knew when Stiles wasn't to be pushed.

"Alright. But I love you, you know that?"

"Yeah, love you too bud." He said, and stood to give the twenty three year old puppy a bear hug. And Stiles stared over Scott's shoulder, feeling nothing but the ice building in his chest.

Scott left.

Confusion warred over Stiles mind, and yet through it all...the beginnings of ice cold betrayal seemed to seep in.

And Stiles needed answers.

Now.

 

.....

 

"You let me believe he was an alpha?" Stiles yelled, storming into Derek's office where he was finalising plans for the publication. He slammed his hands down on Derek's desk.

"Stiles?" Derek said, like he didn't already know.

"Don't "Stiles?" me." Stiles spat. " _Peter_ , you asshole. He's not an alpha."

Derek sighed, putting the papers down and standing up. Stiles hissed bitterly at the response he prepared. Stiles didn't want to hear it.

He knew the truth now.

All Derek did was tell lies.

"You let me believe he could take me from everything I knew! You pretended he was a threat to me, pretended he could take me away from my human life!"

"You used him to make yourself look more desirable! To show and convince me you could protect me!" Stiles yelled. "You got into my head and pretended to be my friend!"

That seemed the hurt Derek, by the look that came across his face. Stiles' heart was consumed by ice, so he felt absolutely nothing at the hurt in Derek's eyes.

"You bit Jackson." Stiles said, just realising it. There was no other way. "You turned Jackson _and_ Scott! You _**liar!**_ "

The slap echoed across the room.

"You bastard, I can't believe you. How _dare_ you manipulate me. How _dare_ you pretend!"

Stiles stepped away from Derek, hand fisting in his own hair harshly. He took a deep breath, rounding back to stare Derek down. Derek said absolutely nothing, the red of his cheek already healing.

Stiles felt something twist painfully inside him.

"I would have forgiven you, if you told me the truth. If you had told me when we were being frank with one another. I know you are a good person, somewhere inside. But it is buried deep under a _thick_ layer of controlling and lying _dickhead_."

He shook his head. Betrayal settled heavily in the pit of his stomach. Aching far worse than his injury from yesterday did.

...he felt _sick_.

"Don't talk to me until you figure out how to dig it out, Hale."

And with that he nodded, turning on his heel and taking fast, careful steps out down the hall. Derek sat down, everything moving to a halt. he sat in the empty, cold room with his heart in his throat.

...Because he didn't know what hurt worse.

The bitter truth that spilled from Stiles' mouth.

Or the fact that he could no longer bring himself to call Derek by his first name.

 

.....

 

Stiles went home.

And he vomited in the toilet.

...but it did nothing to dislodge the betrayal settled in his stomach. He held himself over the toilet: tie discarded on the floor behind him and his coat falling off one shoulder.

He slipped from the toilet, crumpling to the floor. He hugged his torso, trying to warm the cold that was spreading across his chest...Like a flower of ice opening in his heart.

He laid there, and he was just... _empty_. No hate, no anger: just emptiness eating at him. There were no allies, no friends. Everyone was a goddamn liar. He couldn't trust anyone, couldn't confide. He felt sick, stupid. Because he had trusted Derek.

 _Derek_.

He trusted him. He knew Derek was more than his façade, just as Stiles was. He let him in, like a virus into his chest and infecting his heart with false pretence. He let Derek touch him, let him expose him. _Hug_ him. He saw Stiles' scars, his insecurities.

He saw them. He took them. He _used_ them.

Stiles felt betrayed and violated. Like he was stripped naked and left out in the cold, like _Derek_ had stripped him...

And left him out for the wolves to have their fun.

But what made it worse was that Stiles didn't suspect anything. He was as naive as he was all those years ago. He hadn't learnt at all. He hadn't learnt anything from his mom's death.

He was still a little fucking child.

Used and abandoned. Left to rot. _He was so irrevocably alone._

...And that hurt worse than anything else.

 

.....

 

A week later, the Alpha magazine made a publication.

It was in every letterbox and news agency. It was in Stiles' phone. It may have well been raining from the sky. So, before Stiles even opened it...he knew it was bad. Because the Alphas had never wanted anyone to see their magazine as much as they did today.

"MR HALES VIOLENT ANTICS!" It read. Stiles frowned. Derek barley left the house apart from work, and Stiles was pretty sure Derek hadn't hurt anyone, other than destroying the carefully cultivated trust inside Stiles' chest.

He opened to the page listed. There were pictures. Enlarged from a long distance camera.

Of Stiles.

Of when he was at Derek's house. Last week. Of Stiles walking into the house. Pictures of them talking over their Expresso coffee.

Pictures of Stiles leaving wearing Derek's clothes.

"Mr Hale had seemed to have taken a liking to his intern: Stiles Stilinski. The two were seen in Mr Hales apartment, and with the young intern spending the night. Mr Stilinski left the apartment early the next day, wearing what seems to be Mr Hale's clothes and sporting bruising to the face."

"Which begs the question...was Mr Stilinski injured from his occupation or Mr Hale's private escapades?"

Stiles stared at the captured photo of him, frozen in time from where he was looking at Derek from the couch. The press had managed to avoid any glare on the window pane, so you could clearly see the hand shaped bruise on his throat as well as the blossoming markings across his cheekbone.

He looked _so_ weak.

And they thought Derek did that to him? They were suggesting Derek beat him...that he slept with him?

Stiles felt a flare of protective anger inside him, cutting through the aged betrayal still sitting inside his core.

Derek didn't have a partner, and the man was a bitter asshole...but that didn't mean he took advantage of his employees to satisfy his needs. He shouldn't let these rumours circulate.

Derek _did not_ hurt him.

_"God Stiles. I'd never do...anything- I won't hurt you. I promise I will never hurt you."_

If Stiles had been any other, he could take advantage of this. Spin the lies with acting pathetic and accusing Derek of those things. He could break Derek, and everything he worked for.

But that was what the Alpha's wanted. It was what Deucalion wanted.

Stiles quickly pulled down the shades on the windows. Breathing hard as he ran to his room to pull on a hoodie from the floor and sunglasses from his table. He grabbed his keys, wallet and phone on the kitchen bench as he fumbled with a pen, writing a note to Kira on a loose receipt he snatched from the table.

"Out, dealing with this new situation. Try to stay out of sight."

He quickly pulled up his hood over his hair, running out the door. He was down the first flight of stairs before he heard the old thing slam shut.

 

......

 

Stiles made the mistake of checking his own social media.

....It was trending worldwide.

He almost vomited on the sticky leather of the taxi seat.

 

......

 

Stiles jumped out of the taxi, handing the driver a bundle of ones.

He ran into the building, ignoring the looks from the well dressed people passing him as their workday ended. He pulled the card from his wallet and swiped it at the elevator, jumping inside to the empty steel space.

Stiles shakily told the machine to take him to level 80, leaning back against the wall as he caught his breath.

He was jittery, shocked: Filled with anxiety. But, overall...he was _angry_.

The residual anger from Derek's posturing, from the fact that he was never clear with Stiles just when he was starting to trust him.

He didn't know what else Derek had chosen to keep from him. But, that was all falling to the back of his mind, the space filled with questions and stress.

Because he felt so _exposed_.

Like he was being watched. Eyes locked on him from afar, down the scope of a snipers rifle.

He had a god awful feeling about this.

The alphas weren't just trying to ruin Derek's reputation. They were trying to separate him from Stiles. Make sure he couldn't harness Stiles' potential without backlash.

And Stiles wondered how far they'd be willing to go to make that happen.

 

......

 

Stiles didn't have to wonder very long.

Turns out Jennifer was more than just a creepy bitch. She was also a manipulator and betrayer. Stiles never made it to Derek's office.

The elevator stopped on a lower floor, and Stiles only had time to see Jennifer's smiling face before the dark consumed him. He barely felt the surge of pure and bitter panic before he was _gone_. And he didn't know if he should have felt relieved about that when he had the chance.

Because it was the only time he was to feel relief for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be prepared for some angst, hurt and badassery in the future.
> 
> We are still going downwards, but I promise it will all be okay soon.
> 
> And feel free to share your ideas with me and what you think of Derek and the rest~
> 
> Love y'all :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shock and fear together were a strange, lethal mix to his sanity.
> 
> And he needed his sanity if he was going to get through this again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of you asked for more backstory a while ago.
> 
> Here ya go.
> 
> WARNING: Past violence, past referenced character death, blood, kidnapping.

_"MOM!"  
_

_"It's okay honey, it's okay." Her voice as on the other side of the door. And she was close. Too close._

_"No, mom! Don't come in here!"_

_"I have too, Zemy." She said, and he cried out as the man gripped him tighter in anticipation._

_The door clicked open._

_"Lovely to see you, Claudia."_

_"You have what you want, let him go."_

_"NO!" Stiles screamed. He was flung to the side, hitting the wall hard. He crumpled, little scraped limbs just collapsing as he slid down the wall into a bruised and bloody heap._

_He heard his mom and the man talking, chains rattling. It was all blurry._

_Stiles pushed his head off the wall, turning around to make sure he was facing the man. Facing the danger._

_His mom's hand was chained to a wall. And she was standing in a puddle of his own dried blood._

_"No, please...no. He's just a boy." His mom was pleading. But his head hurt too much. He was loosing time. He felt the man loom over him, and his head shot up to look at him._

_And the knife gleaming horribly in his hand._

_"NO!" His mom was yelling. "You promised. Just me! You have to let him go!"_

_"I don't have to do anything, dear Claudia."_

_And that's when his mom started screaming._

_But Stiles was just laying there, upper body resting against the wall staring blankly into the distance._

_Because there was a knife in his stomach._

_Stiles blinked._

_And he realised he must have passed out. Because his mom wasn't screaming anymore._

_"Mom?" He tried. Horrible thumping sounds echoed from his right. But he couldn't move his head._

_His mom was crying._

_"Mommy?" He said, and this time his mouth actually made noise._

_"Zemy! Oh my god, he's still alive." She cried. Stiles wasn't sure he was supposed to hear that. "Please. Hold your tummy, darling....God."_

_Her sentences were breaking. The man was laughing._

_Stiles wanted to do what he was told. He really did. But he couldn't move his arms. They were too heavy._

_"I.....I can't move, Mommy." He whispered past bruised lips. She cried out._

_"He's dying, Claudia. And it's because you refused to stay with me." The man laughed. He was having so much fun. It sounded so sick._

_"No..." Stiles said. It wasn't her fault, she needed to know. He was sore, but he felt okay. He didn't know why he was okay, but he was okay. And she didn't know. But his voice was so weak._

_The harsh angles of the room were blurring._

_"Zemy! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-"_

_He tried to hold on. But he was loosing time._

_Stiles was back to screaming. Crying. Yelling. Dark. Cold._

_"JOHN!" His mom was screaming. She was in front of him now, and the man was behind her. Holding her head, fingers buried harshly into her hair._

_"He's dying, John! He's dying!!"_

_"Mm...m" he tried. He was still here._

_"Zemy! Przemysław! Oh, god." Her voice was thick with tears and screams._

_"OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!" it was his dad. He was here._

_The man wasn't saying anything. He was just laughing. He was insane. He wasn't anything like the storybook villains Stiles knew. He was so much worse._

_It was like he was leaking darkness. It was covering the floor around him._

_But it might just be blood._

_Stiles didn't want to know which one was worse._

_Heavy thumping noises echoed rhythmically. Stiles thought that might be the battering ram his dad told him they used to break down doors. Stiles asked him why they broke down doors because damaging things was 'not being a good boy'._

_His dad said it was to get to the baddies...but he didn't say how long it would take. The door kept thumping, and orders were echoing._

_He was cold._

_He wanted a hug from his mommy._

_"Zemy.." His mom was saying, head twisted in the man's grip. She was staring right at him, clothes ripped and blood on her lip._

_"Please know, my boy." She gasped, and she was crying. "Please know I love you."_

_Stiles couldn't even blink. And he thought she might have known. She started crying harder, but Stiles didn't even have enough energy left to cry._

_"Please. I'll be seeing you soon, okay. Mommy will come see you soon. Just wait for mommy." She was saying, but he didn't understand._

_"M.m...mo-m?"_

_"It's okay." She was limp in the man's grip. The door started creaking. The man was shouting and taunting. Angry and hysterical. He was insane._

_"It will be okay. You'll see grandma, remember grandma? She will be there." His mom said. And Stiles heard her, but he just didn't understand._

_Grandma died two years ago._

_The door cracked. Light spilled in. The air was filled with yelling. But Stiles still heard his mom._

_"I love you, my Przemysław."_

_Then she crumpled like he did. Suddenly, unexpectedly. Hitting the floor with a solid thump. Stiles didn't understand. Because the man hit the ground too, flashing lights highlighting them both._

_The red blood and grey concrete were mixing._

_His dad was sobbing._

_Colours were dancing before his eyes. And Stiles was crying. He didn't understand why._

_He was loosing time._

 

_....._

 

Stiles lurched awake.

He was chained. He was cold. He was aching....But he wasn't eight. His limbs were longer, his clothes bigger. He was twenty three.

And yet here he was...In almost the exact same position as he was all those years ago.

He didn't know if he wanted to scream or laugh.

But right now he was just going cold. Very cold. Shock and fear together were a strange, _lethal_ mix to his sanity.

And he needed his sanity if he was going to get through this again.

He just had to wonder who he was going to lose this time around. Would it be another person he loved? Or himself? Would he finally die? Would this time around be his last?

Would it be better just to let go? Or worth the pain to fight?

He didn't know.

But, then he remembered his dad. He remembered Scott, Allison, Kira, Lydia...Derek.

And he wanted to punch himself for ever contemplating the thought. He didn't want them to stand over a empty grave while he laid, decaying in a dumpster.

That was not the way Stiles Stilinski was going to die.

Too much had happened to him out of his control. Too many years taken from him.

...And he'd had enough.

He did not want to die. He'd fight it with every breath of his lungs and every beat of his heart. But, he wasn't stupid. He knew he was helpless to whatever these people decided to be his fate.

But at least he wouldn't go down without a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a angst writer through and through, but I've been making an effort to decrease the amount of pain Stiles will go through. I hope you guys will like it, since most of you don't like sad things.
> 
> Which is why Stiles had his little determination spiel there. He's a stubborn character and I hope I do him justice.
> 
> I'm really excited for the cutesy stuff at the end! And we are really close guys, only a few chapters left!
> 
> See y'all later~


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Welcome, Mr Stilinski. Lovely to see you again." Stiles sighed, sitting in chains as the man strutted in like the pretentious British man he was.
> 
> "Not sure I can say the same, Deucalion."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right-o.
> 
> This is the most violent chapter of this story. I tried to tone it down so it shouldn't be too bad.
> 
> Many luck. 
> 
> WARNINGS AT END OF CHAPTER bc they are kinda spoilers.

"Welcome, Mr Stilinski. Lovely to see you again." Stiles sighed, sitting in chains as the man strutted in like the pretentious British man he was.

"Not sure I can say the same, Deucalion."

"That's not very nice." The man said, and Stiles laughed.

"And you are not a very nice person."

"You misunderstand me boy, I'm not here to be nice. I'm here to get answers."

"Well that's a shame, because I only have questions." Stiles shot back. Deucalion hissed, moving forward threatening.

"Give me everything you have on Hale, or I will kill you." He growled, true colours revealed, but Stiles only smiled up at him

"How about...hm...Fuck _you_ , asshole." He said, lips stretching into a sharp biting grin.

Deucalion slapped him, and his head jerked to the side. He spat blood, but the smile never left his face.

It continued in the same fashion, Deucalion trying to force Stiles to give him answers, Stiles rejecting and some form of physical violence following.

"You won't get anything from me." Stiles hissed a few hours later, bleeding and bruised in more places than he cared to count. "I don't bow to people like you."

"Well, that's too bad." The man pouted like a child that didn't get the toy they wanted. "I thought that we could have been comrades. Oh well...everyone has a breaking point huh?"

Stiles sneered, even as Deucalion moved closer.

"Have fun finding mine, bastard."

"Oh, darling...I _will_." Deucalion smiled, feral and wrong. He lunged, grin widening.

A sickening squelch echoed.

Stiles kept Deucalion's gaze, resolve pumping though him stronger than any pain he felt. His neck bulged still, the veins revealing the scream he held down.

Deucalion looked disappointed

And despite the heat spreading from his thigh, Stiles felt like he was flying.

 

.....

 

"Guess what?"

Stiles hadn't even the energy to roll his eyes. He was weak, from both blood loss and hunger....but mostly he was just pissed off.

"Your disappearance has been noticed." Kali said, with a bright smile. "It's currently breaking news."

Stiles wanted to punch those sparkling teeth from her mouth. It wasn't fair that somebody so vile could be so beautiful.

"But, do you know what makes it even better?" Kali asked. Stiles didn't even blink.

"Your precious alpha has been accused of kidnapping you to keep your silence. Everyone's talking about it, it's all over the net. Spitting hate at Hale, at what he did to you. Oh look!" She said, as though surprised, as she looked through Twitter. "Somebody's started a rumour that Hale murdered you."

Stiles had no doubts that the Alphas started the rumour.

"And everyone believing it. They said how you talked a lot, and how you despised his control over you. Like, once we published that article, you would run to the nearest police station to tell them everything Hale did to you. Hale couldn't risk that, so he murdered you."

"Hate consumes, boy. It grows like a weed, sneaking in to people's minds and _festering_. It's going to burn Hale and everything he has. And once he's burnt down, we will stand in its ashes and reap the benefits."

Stiles glared.

"Oh, don't worry. You won't be around to see it. We will slit your throat beforehand, leaving you in a public dumpster. Somebody will find you, and that will be the final straw."

"It will spread across the Internet like wildfire. Every blog, every social media. Everyone will know, and everyone will immediately blame Hale for your poor little death. They will sing your graces, telling of your strength and your fight. They will mourn you like a lost child, who fought death to the last day."

She smiled, vicious. Stiles hated her for it.

"Hale will _burn_ on the pyre your death made. He will burn, and he will fall. He will be proved guilty of your death, and he will serve the death sentence. Captured and disgraced, he can join his petty family in _hell_."

Stiles felt hate so hot it felt like ice, burning and freezing all at the same time.

He screamed, because it _hurt_.

No human should feel this level of hate. It consumed him, red obscuring his vision. It _burned_ , ripping through him.

Everything Derek did to him...Stiles knew why. It was for his family, always had been. Derek loved them so much, and Stiles new what it was like to have them taken away. And now Kali was threatening everything Derek had sacrificed, everything he achieved for them in their absence?

...And just the mere connotation made something _snap_ inside Stiles.

It was ice fire, more powerful than anything he had ever felt.

"I will fucking _kill_ you if you touch him." Stiles said, low and icy. The ice fire swirled within him, ready to surge and consume. He reigned it in. He only had once chance.

"With what? You are in chains boy." Kali laughed, leaning closer. Stiles glared up at her through his eyelashes. His eyes had turned from the usually warm honey to a icy black.

"But...you forgot one thing." He said. Kali didn't seem very concerned, but she was close enough at Stiles saw the confusion in her eyes. With a fire in his dark eyes and a tilt of his head, he _grinned_.

"...I'm a fucking _sheriff's son_."

Stiles lunged then, metal shard in his hands gleaming in the light. He felt the awful squelch.

Kali _screamed_.

Stiles backed away, breathing hard. Kali dropped to the ground, holding her side with the metal still imbedded within.

"I'm not the same boy anymore. I won't watch anyone else I care about die while I lay in chains. I've learnt, and I know your kind." Kali screamed bloody murder, but Stiles knew she was already healing. He didn't have much time.

He stepped around her carefully, moving to the heavy metal door. It was ajar. Stiles thanked God.

But because it was open...it meant that the others had heard Kali scream.

Stiles wasted no time, heaving open the door and rushing down the hall. He stumbled, thigh aching horribly. Liquid splattered to the ground behind him. He didn't turn to look at what it was. He knew.

He ran, pushing off walls and leaving bloody handprints as he tried to find a way out. He wasn't conscious when they dragged him in down here, so he could be in the middle of nowhere for all he knew.

But nowhere was better than here.

Stiles heard commotion down the lengthy halls, and he knew his time was short.

He pushed himself, almost screaming from the pain. More blood spattered, and Stiles knew he was leaving a trail for them to track.

But, he didn't have time to worry about that. His most primal instincts were taking over, screaming get out get out get out over and over.

He was running without direction, but moving further away from those that threatened him.

Or that's what he thought.

But then he stumbled, and he collapsed.

Stiles cried out as a hand closed around his throat. Deucalion lifted him in the air, slamming him against the wall and staring into Stiles' eyes.

Instinct ran rampant, and Stiles fought with everything he had.

Deucalion pinned him immediately, and he scowled at Stiles. Stiles cried out inaudibly, throat closed over as his mouth gasped for air. Because Deucalion was angry.

And he couldn't _breathe_.

"Please don't." He cried, gasping for air and clawing at Deucalion's hands. But the man only held his gaze, fury in his eyes.

Deucalion's eyes flashed bright blue.

And Stiles _screamed_.

 

.....

 

Stiles knew nothing but the darkness in this place.

He was waiting for it to swallow him too. Because nobody was coming to save him. He was on his own.

But Stiles was used to being alone.

And that had never stopped him before.

He would fight this until he breathed his last. Defend from this darkness that had been lurking on the horizon his entire life. He was determined not to let it swallow him. Not let it take him.

He'd been fighting it this long...and he couldn't give up.

Not yet.

 

.....

 

"He's coming, fuck. Hale is coming."

The voice echoed through the stone, and it was the first sound Stiles had heard other than his own screaming in weeks.

Stiles couldn't ignore the hope that flared inside him. He was exhausted, beaten and dying. But they hadn't broken him.

He didn't care if it was an act, because the thought of Derek coming for him lit something inside he thought died long ago. And, if only for just a single moment...the darkness faded from around him.

But then Deucalion slammed open the steel door then, looking collected. Stiles saw the fear in his eyes.

And it made bitter _glee_ come across Stiles' face.

Deucalion stumbled, slamming the door behind him. Stiles didn't miss the scream in the distance over the sound it made. Derek was coming. Somebody was coming for him...Stiles was leaving this place.

He was going to leave the darkness.

Stiles almost laughed, but then Deucalion grabbed his mouth and throat. Silencing him and slamming his head back against the wall with his throat exposed.

"He's not having you, he's _not_. Not after what his mother took from me. He _can't_ have you." Deucalion hissed. "He's here, he can hear your heartbeat. He's looking for you, he's got nothing but rage his his eyes and your name on his lips."

"I would love to drag this out, like I wanted. But, I am intelligent. And I prefer to live through this. So, I'll make this nice and simple."

Stiles was dragged by his chin to his knees, staring up at the man that held his chin in a unforgiving grip. Stiles felt his blood soaked clothes unstick from his skin, shifted for the first time in days.

Deucalion's was changed, eyes bright blue and staring at Stiles' face. Stiles was reminded of the lives this man had taken to get his eyes that colour.

The alpha lifted a claw of his free hand, holding it up to Stiles eyes.

"Lets see how Hale likes it."

Stiles had little time to understand what he meant when the claw sliced across his face. Stiles screamed through his teeth. And when Deucalion dropped him, he screamed for real.

His hands were still locked behind him, so he couldn't even hold his bleeding face. The claw cut from one temple to the other, cutting everything in its path...Including his eyes.

Stiles was _blind_.

The darkness was endless. He would not be leaving the haunting and destroying darkness now.

Because it was all he had.

"You don't have to be afraid of being used, dear child." Deucalion whispered, sick and wrong in his ear. Stiles cried blood.

"Because you are useless now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: blood, violence, referenced torture, blinding.
> 
> Hope y'all made it through okay. Next chapter comes the after effects. Idk if that's better or worse, taking about Stiles' sanity.
> 
> We are almost there. One or Two more chapters of angst then happy times. I promise.
> 
> Love you all~


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't chance. It wasn't bad luck.
> 
> It was fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww
> 
> Thanks for the comments guys. Sorry bout the cliffy, but there's another one coming up.
> 
> This chapter is kinda sad and I'm sorry for that. Building up to the fluffy happiness soon.
> 
> WARNINGS AT END OF CHAPTER

It wasn't even Derek that saved him apparently. He was busy _apprehending_ Deucalion. Deucalion needed to be publicly condemned for his actions, but Stiles knew Derek would have much preferred murdering him there.

It was Scott, breaking the chains holding him instead. Carrying him out of the dungeon he'd been confined to.

And, as Stiles laid in that hospital bed, drenched to the core in darkness:

He found out Allison died in the raid.

Kali killed her. And then Lydia killed the bitch with the blood on her hands. It was a cycle of death. Killing and more killing.

...Stiles wasn't even surprised.

Somebody was bound to die in the raid. The chances, statistically, should have taken even more.

It was bound to happen. It was fate, you couldn't change that. Allison had been bound to die that day, the moment she was born. Just like Stiles was bound to this life of constantly running from the dark.

It wasn't chance. It wasn't bad luck.

It was fate.

He thought he could escape it. He hadn't believed in fate...But now it was all there was. It was his fate to be in this darkness, to be blinded and have his last sight to be a man consumed by the same. It was his fate to sit in this darkness, and it would be his fate to die in it too.

....Because Stiles was useless now.

 

.....

 

It should have concerned Stiles, but from then on he couldn't feel anything but the seeping cold and the consuming dark.

 

.....

 

Stiles laid still, never moving.

Derek stood in the corner of his room, watching him with sad eyes reflecting in the soft moonlight.

But there was nothing to watch but the silent tears falling down Stiles' cheeks.

 

.....

 

There were horrible people in this world.

But these people had a _choice_.

They weren't monsters, bound by the moon and by the revenge and greed burning in their veins. They chose to become what they were. Chose to become monsters. Deucalion chose this. Chose this fate

...And now fate would deliver its decree.

And everyone he had ever hurt would get the justice they deserved.

_But was justice for all specific enough?_

 

.....

 

Stiles felt only the warmth of his father and Scott at his sides as he was lead up the steps of the court house building.

He heard the click of the cameras around him, but he never saw the telltale flash of a picture being taken.

He felt only the warmth at his side.

And the heavy but familiar hand against his back.

 

......

 

"I want to speak with him." Stiles said, as they reached the inside of the courtroom.

"What? Stiles? That's not a good idea, son." The Ex-Sheriff said, his hand tightening on Stiles' arm like he was afraid to let him go.

Stiles was gone anyway. There was nothing more to hold onto.

Stiles was waiting to slip through his fingers like sand.

But Stiles didn't day anything, only shaking his head. He tried to preserve whatever dignity he had as he reached out for Derek behind him.

Derek moved so Stiles' hand wasn't dangling pathetically in the air, instead against his chest.

Stiles felt his heartbeat, and he matched his breathing to it quietly.

"Please, Derek. I need to."

"...okay, but only if I am there." Derek said, and Stiles knew his dad was sending a glare his way. Stiles nodded quickly, letting Scott and his father slip from around him slowly while Derek took their place.

Stiles tried to ignore the panic that rose in him in that split second where nobody was touching him. He tried to ignore it, but he still felt the remnants of the panic run like ice through his fingers and toes.

How pathetic.

He felt Derek's arm come around him, and he felt the panic recede. But, as they walked along...something else took the panics place.

Because Derek's hand was shaking against his waist.

...Derek was too afraid to touch him now, Stiles realised. Afraid of what the Alphas had done and of the rumours that had consumed everything.

It made Stiles want to cry.

The alphas were either dead or rotting in jail. They were destroyed. But, they still managed get some of what they wanted in the end. They hurt Derek. Took Stiles from him.

They broke the connection they had.

But what broke Stiles even more than they ever could have done themselves: was the hesitant hand on his waist. Fluttering, filled with nervous tension against his hip.

Derek was afraid to touch him, because he was scared that Stiles would _hate_ him for it.

And, despite everything that had been done to him...that nervous fluttering seemed to strike the deepest. It was like a fishing hook dug into his heart, and it was trying to rip his heart from his chest.

Despite the injuries and the manipulation. Despite all the horrible things that had happened to him and his friends...

That fluttering ate away at him more than anything else.

He was broken, through and through. He knew that.

But every time he felt Derek's hands on him he felt something break inside his chest. Something that the alphas should have never been able to touch.

Something that was only for Derek.

And it was _breaking_.

 

......

 

"Oh, what a lovely surprise!" Stiles stared at him blankly as Deucalion sat up from where he was resting. Stiles imagined him in a ugly orange jumpsuit in a dark cell.

And for some reason it ignited dark satisfaction inside Stiles' heart.

"It's nice to see you again, Stiles. Loving the new look, I must admit."

"Nope. That's it." Derek snapped, and Stiles felt Derek move in front of him, blocking Stiles from Deucalion's sight.

"It's alright, Derek. He can't hurt me anymore." Stiles said, but he didn't say: _Because there was nothing left to hurt._

Derek heard it anyway.

Stiles stepped up to the bars, looking into the dark.

"The bite isn't a curse, Deucalion. It isn't a condemnation. It wasn't the judges hammer or the executioners axe. The bite didn't change who you are."

Stiles was spewing everything he had held inside, and he was suddenly glad that Derek was here to hear it. Because it wasn't Derek's fault. Derek didn't have to be afraid of touching him.

He was _not_ a monster. And he needed to know Stiles did not blame him for this.

"That decision was entirely yours to make, and I'm sorry that you are so twisted that you can't see that." He whispered. Aching and exhausted...truly done with everything, with the darkness and the evil in front of him. He'd had enough. "But you made the wrong fucking choice."

"Because now you have been swallowed into the dark." Stiles said, and he stared into the darkness that filled everything. The world didn't have darkness. It wasn't light and dark.

Everything was dark. The world was darkness now, because Stiles couldn't see any light. There was none left for him.

He bit his lip, too bone weary to cry. He just didn't have anything left.

"...And you've taken me down with you."

Deucalion laughed.

"But, despite everything: you didn't win. You will rot like the evil you are. You will rot and you will die. I will be free, as will Derek."

Stiles suddenly felt a flare of anger, and he welcomed it's fiery burning red.

Because at least it wasn't the empty dark.

"How does it feel, Deucalion?" He said, slamming his hands on the bars in front of him. They echoed the clang he made. "Derek will thrive from your ashes now, and you will die knowing you never got what you wanted. You broke me, yes. That's clear to see...but you didn't get him."

"How does it feel to fail?" He sneered, because it felt good.

"I will get out, boy." Decualion hissed, and Stiles knew he was angry. But, it only made the dark satisfaction grow in his heart. "I will. No human establishment can hold me. I only sit here because I feel like it."

"I don't doubt that you will try, but have you ever heard of a little place called _Eichen House?_ " And Stiles didn't need sight to see the anger and fear that suddenly rose in Deucalion.

The bars clanged, and Stiles felt Deucalion's breath on his face.

But there was no fear in Stiles' eyes.

Only red and black.

"I'm superior! In every way shape and form. I'm better than you, pitiful human! I will kill you this time! I'll fucking _destroy_ you and Hale. I'll cut both your throats!"

"But who is the one in the jail cell? And who is free? I'm free, Deucalion. And you will rot in Eichen house. You will never be able to touch us again. Enjoy hell, _bastard_."

Stiles walked away, and he felt the guards run past as the alpha wolf started screaming and howling insults. Stiles also knew the guards eyes were glowing gold as they ran past.

Because this was a city of the supernatural. Deucalion would be punished not only by the constitutional law, but pack law too.

He was no better than dead, now.

It gave Stiles dark and twisted satisfaction. But, that satisfaction could not heal everything that had been done. It could not reverse time.

Stiles was still broken, and only time would fix him now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Referenced character death, tears, sadness
> 
> Hope y'all didn't get too sad. I tried to tone it down. 
> 
> Stiles will feel the effects of Allisons death next chapter I think. Where we deal with the mental side of what happened to him. Brace yourselves.
> 
> Many love~


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles nodded, and he plastered a smile on his face as some sort of reinforcement to his decision.
> 
> He wondered if Derek saw how broken it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry but we got more sadness. This was gonna be two seperate chapter but I thought we should get the worst of it out of the way.
> 
> WARNING: References to depression 
> 
> Fun coming soon. Hang on guys.

Stiles went back to the hospital. Back to meaningless words of _Depression, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder_ so on and so on. Stiles knew what was wrong with him.

But knowing it was there didn't make it go away.

His physical injuries were really what he was there for. The hospital could fix those...to an extent. Everything else was buried deep inside Stiles, and no medication or surgery could dig it out.

It was like he was standing underneath a floor of glass, screaming and banging on it trying to get the attention of the rest of the world going about their lives without him.

The problem was no-one could hear him, or even knew he was trapped there.

Slipping into depression felt like falling down a dark bottomless shaft, wondering if and when his fall will ever be caught. And as he'd look back to where he fell from, he could see it receding further into the distance, the proverbial light becoming dimmer and dimmer, while the shaft into which he was falling became deeper, darker, and all the more enveloping.

He knew he should be fighting his fall, but it was just too much. He didn't have anything to fight with.

He was just falling, waiting for rock bottom.

..If there even was one.

He didn't know if it was better to keep falling, or wait for the end. Let himself continue, and hope he became numb to it.

He was trapped in his own mind.

And there was nobody to pry him out.

 

.....

 

Stiles lazily opened his eyes as he heard familiar footsteps approach him. Derek was here again.

Usually Stiles would be content to just let him watch Stiles for a few hours, and then leave. But today he decided enough was enough.

His visits were fruitless, and that desire to keep Derek close was fading as darkness slowly infected his mind and made room for nothing else.

"Why are you here, Derek?" He asked. Derek remained quiet.

"I'm useless to you now. You don't need me. You don't have to pretend you ever wanted me for anything other than my memory. Because, guess what? I can't see anymore. I can't read any documents for you, I can't study or remember anything anymore." Stiles took a deep breath, and it shuddered pathetically.

"My memory is now no longer a asset to you. I won't hold anything against you if you leave now and dissolve the contract. I know you don't want me, so it's fine."

Stiles swallowed.

"Bye, Derek."

It was silence. Stiles wondered if he'd already left.

"You _idiot_!" Derek thundered. Stiles flinched violently, but he tried to compose himself. Pretend that he wasn't nothing but worthless and helpless prey to the predator in the room.

Stiles idly wondered if he'd ever again be able to enter a room and not immediately think of the threats it contained.

"You think I only wanted you for your memory? I did Stiles, I did originally. I admit that. But you are so much more now. You are smart and funny and witty. You bring light into my life despite the fact that you were so plagued by the dark."

"I want you for who you are Stiles. I like you. And I like spending time with you."

"I will not give you up, Stiles. Don't you dare insinuate that I would leave you now to deal with this on your own...especially when it's my fault."

Stiles didn't say anything, until he answered. But his voice was much quieter. Subdued.

"...Don't start playing the blame game Derek. I spent years going through it when my mom died in that basement."

"I won't blame myself if you let me care for you. Help you get better."

Stiles hesitated. He could pretend, right? He could let himself be cared for and healed. He could pretend it would work...Even if he knew that there was no way he was going to heal from this.

Stiles nodded, and he plastered a smile on his face as some sort of reinforcement to his decision.

He wondered if Derek saw how broken it was.

 

.....

 

Stiles was released a week later into Derek's care. He was silent during the entire procession.

Until they got into the car.

"I want to go home." He said, staring out into nothing. Derek looked at him carefully, hands on the steering wheel of his personal car.

"I can't leave you alone." Derek said, but all Stiles heard was useless, pathetic...can't even take care of himself.

"So don't." Stiles answered, not bothering to look into the mans direction. It wasn't like he could see him anyway.

"You won't be able to stay there." Derek warned. Stiles didn't have the energy or the capacity to roll his eyes.

Derek turned the car, driving Stiles home.

 

.....

 

Derek helped Stiles up the stairs, but the fluttering of his hands and Stiles' utter _dependence_ on them, only served to make Stiles hate himself even more.

The alpha unlocked the door, and Stiles walked inside, manoeuvring himself from memory. This was the only place he could anymore. He went straight to the closet in his room, and the small apartment echoed emptily, since Kira was staying with Scott. He didn't care for Derek's presence at the entry to his room.

All it did was make him feel worse.

But, he didn't tell Derek to go away...Because he could do nothing but punish himself.

Stiles dug into the closet until he felt what he was looking for. He touched it reverently, gently pulling it out from where he hid it and setting it on the ground next to him.

It was his moms unlabelled box.

Something he kept within sight, to remind him...and now he couldn't even see what was inside.

He methodically, from memory, felt through the little pieces of his moms life, before he stopped. Noticing something missing. Through the darkness in his heart and the emptiness in his chest:

...He realised the box didn't smell like his mom's perfume anymore.

He'd lost his sight. He couldn't see any part of her anymore. And now he couldn't smell her either.

Because now all that was left was dust and decay.

He stilled, holding at the pieces he constantly tried to put back together. Tried to hold onto like they would piece together and he would be able to be with his mom again.

But it was all broken. Broken shards that would never quiet fit together, no matter how hard he tried.

And now he couldn't even see the broken shards.

His mom wasn't coming back. She wasn't going to hold him, wasn't going to comfort him. Will away his darkness and tell him he was going to be okay. He was alone in a big city were nobody cared.

Just him and his box of broken dreams.

Because nobody was coming back. Not for him. Not for his dad. Not for Scott. Allison had lost her mom. Then she lost her baby...and now she'd lost her life.

She wasn't coming back.

And Scott was going to have an unlabelled box of shattered hope too. Like Stiles. Like Derek. They were alone with the darkness of death.

Because nobody could escape it.

Nobody could understand it, nobody could change it.

Once it sucked you in it never let you go.

Stiles sat, holding tightly onto his moms favourite scarf. He shoved his nose into it, violently searching for the smell that was supposed to be there. He searched and searched.

But there was nothing to be found.

Everything was gone. And even the barest hints of a time before the darkness had been taken too.

Because now all it had become was dust and decay.

Stiles hugged the scarf, holding it tightly in a ball on his chest. Blind and destroyed, he laid next to his box of broken dreams in the big city that didn't care. He curled over, holding the broken pieces of his mom to his chest:

And he sobbed at the _injustice_ of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plz don't cry anyone. 
> 
> Stiles will get his happy ending.
> 
> This part was written months ago so it's a little sadder than I intended. Sorry.
> 
> Two chapters left. Last chapter is legit just chock-a-block full of happiness I promise.
> 
> See y'all tomorrow~


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The bite will heal you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little sad, but yeah. Stiles isnt going to be better immediately. I hope you guys know that :)
> 
> And yes, I see you *Connor*. Every chapter since Stiles was blinded. I see you. Ahaha

Do you know what the worst things about having photographic memory is?

There are just some things that you can't forget.

No matter how hard you wish or numbing agents you take...they _never_ go away.

For Stiles it was his mother's dying breaths, echoing in his mind. It was his fathers sobs as Stiles sat on the stairs, watching him fall apart.

He was broken inside.

But...

Sometimes broken things could be fixed. By a family member, a friend, a stranger, a lover.

You just needed someone to _try_.

 

.....

 

Stiles laid on Derek couch as he tried to heal everything that had been broken. Stiles dreamt about Allison. About her and Scott with their little son, playing on a swing set.

He woke up sobbing.

Because now Scott would never have that.

And Stiles' subconscious was punishing him for it.

 

.....

 

Stiles woke up, waiting to see the morning light dancing across his vision.

Instead he woke up fighting the desire to die.

 

.....

 

"The bite will heal you."

Stiles flinched, head snapping to look over at where Derek's voice sounded. He didn't know Derek was in the room. Stiles heard him place his coffee mug against granite, so he decided he would be in the kitchen. He could imagine that the man was leaning against his kitchen bench, coffee mug in hand as he stared out into the city.

Stiles been sitting in silence, curled up on the couch with blankets wrapped tightly around him. He was sitting, staring blankly into the city and trying to pretend he was okay.

As though the reason he couldn't see was because it was nighttime...Not because he was broken toy that couldn't be fixed.

Because was just waiting for Derek to throw him out in the trash.

There was no fixing this.

Unless...

"The bite?" He asked. He pulled the blanket around him up to his chin.

"I could give you the bite. It would heal your injuries." Derek said, and it sounded like he'd been thinking about it for a long time. Stiles contemplated, trying desperately not to get his hopes up.

"What if I'm immune?" Stiles asked. Like Lydia. She was immune, and when Peter attacked her on his power rampage before Stiles arrived; she didn't get the out of becoming a werewolf to heal the damage.

She healed slowly. Ugly and painfully.

"Well then it was worth the shot." Derek said, and Stiles recognised the tone of his voice.

"...you aren't telling me something."

Derek sighed.

Stiles heard the clang of him placing his mug down and the rustle of his clothes as he moved closer. Stiles did everything in his power to stop himself from flinching away.

He likened himself to a injured animal. Primal and instinctual, falling back on instincts to help him get out of this mess.

The thing was: he wasn't.

And this wasn't a mess he could get out of. But, if Derek's bite would do as he said... Stiles might be able to see the sky again. See the light, that at the moment, Stiles was not privy too.

See the light to guide him out of this dark and guilt ridden depression.

...Because Stiles was _not_ healing. Not physically, mentally or emotionally. He was just wallowing in the permanent darkness.

Waiting for it to take him too.

"Stiles." Derek said, and Stiles heard him sit down on the couch next to him. He didn't touch Stiles though, and he appreciated it.

Because these days he was always hovering on the edge of a violent panic attack.

"If the bite doesn't take, for some reason or another...you will die."

Stiles swallowed.

"You are going to need to be more specific then 'some reason or another'." Stiles muttered, arms wrapped around himself. He tucked his sock covered toes into the hem of the blanket that encompassed him.

"If you have the blood of any other wolf in your veins you won't take well to my DNA." Derek said, and he could imagine Derek sitting there with his elbows on his knees, staring intently at Stiles.

Stiles wondered what it was like staring into blank eyes that would never look back.

"Okay." Stiles said, trying to keep his mind occupied away from his current predicament. "So what happens to me if it does take? Would I become like Jackson, docile and obedient like a trained puppy?"

"...I won't do anything nor force you to do anything you don't want." Derek said, like the suggestion hurt him. And well, Stiles was bitter at the moment. Derek knew he hated being controlled.

"But you will be mine, Stiles." Derek said then, stopping to let it sink in. Stiles didn't respond, just sitting and thinking it over.

"So I get might sight back but then I'm chained to you for life."

Stiles remembered back to when he thought he could just fuck around with Derek for awhile and then piss off when the man got too irritated to keep him. He thought it'd only last a few weeks...And then he'd be free again.

Stiles wanted to laugh at his own naivety.

He was chained to Derek now by contract. And Stiles had been so bitter and angry about it, feeling claustrophobic and suppressed.

He wanted to laugh about that too.

Because he'd discovered so much worse things to be bitter about. It just seemed to mundane and pitiful in comparison to where he was now.

And now Derek was sitting in front of him, telling Stiles that he could heal him. That he could give him that light back.

But the price was that he'd be bound to him for life.

"Do you really want somebody as broken as me? I'm useless to you now."

"... _Stiles_." Derek growled. "You aren't useless, not to me. You are still the same person, still Stiles. That's all I want from you, okay? Just _stay_ Stiles."

Stiles bit his lip.

It was a good goal. To heal. It was something he'd been attempting for what felt like months. But he couldn't do it on his own. Derek could help him. Make him better.

All he had to do was try and keep the broken pieces of himself together. Gather up the broken shards into a basket, to be glued back together tediously later. Just make sure none of the pieces fell away....Make sure he didn't lose anymore of himself.

...And he thought he just _might_ be able to do that.

 

.....

 

 It was time.

...And Stiles wanted to laugh.

It was all so dramatic, like the time ticking until an execution. The time went so fast, but yet so slow. He was nervous, and rightly so. These hours might be his last.

But he couldn't think about that. He had too much in his head already.

He was nervous, but he was also incredibly bored. He had always been an active mind, so sitting around and waiting for something was never ideal. But then again, maybe it was a good sign. Boredom meant he was waiting for something. That something was going to happen.

And any emotion apart from this riddling depression was a saving grace.

Derek had warned him not to fight him. To just lay back and let Derek climb over him, take him as his own wolf. Stiles had barely suppressed the haunting imagery and whispering words from the back of his mind.

So now he waited.

Derek's footsteps moved closer, bare footed on the hardwood. Stalking his prey. Stiles laid down on the couch slowly, edging himself back into the cushions. He accepted their comfort.

Derek still moved closer.

Stiles gently pulled his shirt down from his throat, exposing the tender flesh up until his collarbone.

Derek kneeled on the couch at Stiles' feet.

Stiles knew Derek was in the throes of his instincts currently, and that talking was a no no. Stiles tried not to imagine what Derek looked like, ice blue gaze on his skin like he was some damn deer. Stiles felt the couch shift as Derek climbed over his legs, hands at the sides of Stiles' hips.

The young man tilted his head back over the cushions, exposing his neck in all the ways he hated. A rumble echoed from Derek's chest, and Stiles reminded himself to breathe.

Derek climbed over Stiles, weight pressing the bones of his pelvis into the couch and hands heavy on his upper arms. Pinning him.

And Stiles _whimpered_ like a pitiful animal.

He had to breathe. Had to stay calm.

He had to-

"Its okay." Derek whispered, voice husky and slightly muffled by his fang-teeth. "Breathe."

Stiles breathed.

It was Derek. Not a feral predator. It was his boss, not a murderer. He was his friend, not a stranger.

...Derek promised he would never hurt him.

Stiles could trust him. After everything they'd been through. He could...It was okay. Derek whispered praises in the younger's ear as he heard Stiles' heart slow to a manageable beat. Stiles closed his eyes, shutting off the illusion of having any defences.

He went limp.

And Derek rubbed encouraging circles along the indent of Stiles' collarbone.

Stiles felt as Derek's hands slid up from his shoulders, running effortlessly over smooth skin. His fingertips danced over Stiles' throat and settled around the back of Stiles' head.

Derek's breath ghosted over Stiles' neck.

Stiles hand moved involuntarily, grabbing onto the fabric of Derek's t-shirt. Derek thumbed the skin under Stiles' ear in response. Stiles took comfort it gave.

"...Thankyou." Stiles whispered, haunting in the silence. For _trying_ , if nothing. Because Stiles still had too many things left unsaid.

He couldn't let that be one of them.

Derek's lips brushed Stiles throat, and Stiles heard the words just the same. Stiles didn't know what Derek was thanking him for, but he guessed he'd find out later...If he survived.

Stiles smiled a small wistful smile.

The sun.

The stars.

The sky.

The light.

Derek opened his jaw, fangs gleaming cleanly in the moonlight.

And he bit down.

 

......

 

Stiles _screamed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger bc I am an asshole. Sorry.
> 
> Next is the final chapter. It's sitting complete at almost four thousands words.
> 
> I might post it today, I'll just see how it goes~


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bring to you the final chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Songs I listened to for this chapter:  
> Can't help falling in love by Haley Reinhart  
> Be together (feat Wild Bell) by Major Lazer  
> Love yourself by Justin Bieber  
> Power of love by Gabrielle Aplin
> 
> Enjoy guys. You deserve it if you made it this far <3

Stiles opened his eyes.

And he saw the roof above him. Plain and simple, a flat surface of simple white. Nothing spectacular.

But Stiles burst out crying all the same.

Derek was there, pulling him into his lap as Stiles sobbed ugly and heavy. Derek's hands ghosted over his arms and back, whispering comfort in his ear.

And, his hands _were not shaking_ when they touched Stiles. They were a steady, solid warmth against his sickly thin frame. Strong and sure.

Stiles _laughed_.

Because it felt like, after the constant loss, pain and darkness:

...It felt like he finally _won_ something.

He only cried harder at the realisation, a mess of laughter and tears. He clutched Derek close with both arms and legs, squeezing the man as hard as his human strength allowed. He soaked Derek's shoulder with his tears.

But he wasn't the only one.

He smiled then, properly, for the first time in what felt like years. Happy and bright in the warm morning sunlight.

And he felt, if only just for a single moment:

...he felt _alive_.

 

......

 

Stiles was Derek's. By pack law and by instinct.

He belonged to somebody.

...And, as Stiles realised for the first time, it wasn't so bad.

Because now nobody else could take him away.

Nobody could take him away from everything he knew. Derek owned him, but he wasn't controlling him. He didn't hurt him. Didn't use him. Stiles was safe now, protected. And, the most important part: he could protect himself.

The world was dark...But now he was equipped to fight back. To heal. He was still irrecoverably broken. But Derek had tried. Somebody had _tried_.

And that was all Stiles needed to start again.

 

......

 

Somewhere along the line, Stiles' stuff appeared at Derek's house spontaneously. Neither questioned it, and they brought it inside.

Now there was a extra toothbrush in the bathroom, a extra coffee mug in the sink.

And the simple sight of those things just made something glow so warm and _bright_ inside Stiles' chest, healing over the scars that had fractured him in pieces.

Derek had pieced him together, tediously and carefully, piece by piece.

But the sight of this quiet, simple life was what made him whole.

 

.....

 

"Hi!" Kira voiced, opening the door to her new apartment to greet the two men at her door.

"Hiya." Stiles smiled, and Kira gently pulled him into a comforting embrace.

"I Love you." She whispered. Stiles smiled, arms wrapped around her back.

"I Love you too."

She released him, shutting the door behind him and Derek. Derek stayed silent as Stiles observed the space Kira called home, The place was nice, small but homely. Like Stiles' old apartment, only nicer and cleaner: for which Stiles was glad, because his new vision would have picked up every _single_ dust mite.

Stiles smiled, because Kira didn't know Stiles used the money from selling his apartment to buy this for her and Scott. Well, _mostly_ Stiles. Derek helped too, since he was, like, _drowning_ in money. Stiles was tempted to ask Derek to take some of it out so he could throw it in the air and roll around in it like they did in the movies.

Kira still insisted her and Scott weren't a thing, but Stiles just smiled. He was happy for them.

"Want anything to drink?" Kira asked, in the small kitchen. Stiles moved to sit at the stools, and Derek sat down next to him.

"Nah, I just wanna know the news. Don't leave me hanging."

Kira called them over, saying she had news. Well, she called Stiles but by now she knew with Stiles came Derek and vice versa. They were inseparable.

She didn't say what the news was though, and Stiles was significantly impatient for things like this.

It was one of the things that had stayed with him, despite all the changes to his personality in past few months. Stiles was still impatient and stubborn as fuck.

Derek didn't mind.

And Stiles knew because every time Stiles got snarky or sassy at him he just smiled and let Stiles get what he wanted. Stiles felt like a spoiled teenager half the time when Derek bought him three buckets of fairy floss at his insistence or let him run around Central Park at four am because he felt like it.

...But they were just like that.

Stiles said and did stupid things as Derek just followed, making sure he didn't fall in a pond or something equally ridiculous.

It was fucking fantastic.

"Well...I applied for the ballet academy while you were...you know." Kira said, brushing over the topic. Stiles just watched her intently.

"And, well...I was accepted to start in the fall."

"Oh my god, Kira!" Stiles yelled, leaping up from his stool and swinging around the counter to hug her in a hard and violent embrace. She laughed delightedly in his ear, hugging him back just as tight.

Kira had gotten what she wanted.

She was on her way to achieve her dream.

Stiles had learnt to take what ever comfort he could have. He'd learnt to wake up, just appreciating that he was alive. To face the day, with a smile on his face.

He learnt it appreciate everything he saw.

And seeing other people's, Kira's, happiness was more than enough for him.

 

.....

 

"Full moons tomorrow." Derek said, sitting at the counter as Stiles was on the couch. He'd kept Stiles close and in his apartment for almost a full month, hardly ever letting his new wolf out into the real world. Stiles hadn't worked in three months, since Derek refused to let the younger leave his sight if he wasn't safe at home.

But Derek knew he was quite content with the alpha's Netflix password and gigantic fridge.

The air was cooling, and fall was approaching. The days were shortening, and the nights became longer. Derek wouldn't usually be so careless to change somebody this close to winter, as the full moon's peek came quicker and the nights lasted longer.

But he couldn't leave Stiles like that for another 6 months. The boy would have killed himself. And Derek was not prepared to come home one day and find Stiles laying in his bathtub.

He was not prepared to lose Stiles. He never would be.

Not again.

"Full moon. Righto. Aren't I supposed to go crazy?"

"Basically, yeah."

"Cool." Stiles nodded, turning back to his Netflix. Teen Wolf was too interesting to ignore, how had he never discovered this beautiful show before?

Oh right, because he didn't have fancy rich person Netflix.

"Not 'cool', Stiles. It will be unlike anything you've ever felt." Derek admonished. Stiles looked over at him, tucked in a cocoon of blankies.

"Once we get through this can I go back to work?" Stiles questioned, thinking it over.

"Oh, so you _want_ to work for me now?" Derek asked, holding his heart like Stiles made it flutter. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Don't think so highly of yourself mate, I wanna see Lyds and get back into routine. I won't be a burden to you, and I still have a normal unwerewolf life I have to live."

"Living with me: you will never have to work again, Stiles." Derek said, but then he saw the unimpressed look on Stiles face. "Okay. If you promise to listen to my training and not brush off my advice I'll let you come to work."

"Pinky promise?" Stiles asked, Derek sighed but nodded.

"You can't just nod Der, get your butt over here so we can 'seal the deal'" Stiles made little air quotations.

Derek huffed a laugh, not giving Stiles the satisfaction of seeing him amused by his antics.

Stiles saw it anyway.

He came over to Stiles, standing in front of the younger man holding his hand out with a bored expression on his face. Stiles manoeuvred his hands and linked their pinkies together.

Derek pretended to be bored and Stiles pretended to believe him.

Once it was done, Stiles pulled Derek down to sit next to him and pulled the blankets over Derek too. Stiles smiled, patting the blankets down and grabbing the remote from the table again.

"Now watch Teen Wolf with me, this show is like one massive paradox of our lives. You are so going to love it." The beta said, switching it on.

And Stiles was right.

He loved it.

 

.....

 

The change came...peacefully.

There was no confusion or consuming rage.

Not to say Stiles was calm, though. He could feel the change under his skin, the rage at everything and nothing running through his veins.

But he didn't _let_ it consume him.

He looked up from his hands, staring at Derek. The man had chained him tightly in a secret room in the back of his loft, chains set in the heavy stone walls.

Stiles called it kinky. Derek told him to shut the fuck up.

Derek looked guarded, claws out and ready for anything Stiles would do. But Stiles just smiled, showing clean and unused fangs.

"Can I go break some shit?" Stiles asked. Derek frowned at him, like he was wondering if Stiles had some hidden agenda. Ready to break out and try to kill him or something.

"Der-bear~" Stiles pouted, shaking the chains around his wrists and ankles. Derek frowned, and Stiles just grinned.

"I wanna break something, please?" Stiles asked again. Derek looked guarded still. Stiles sighed, before unleashing the puppy eyes on Derek.

Derek stepped back like Stiles slapped him, shock on his face.

"Okay, okay. Fine. But the moment you lose control I'm so going to deck you." Derek said, snapping out of it and making quick work of the chains.

Stiles flexed his wrists, watching claws extend from his fingers. He had no idea how they got there or what he did to get them there but he was just gonna roll with it.

Derek remained close, staring into Stiles' eyes. Derek's eyes flashed blue and Stiles just ginned up at him, eyes glowing gold in response.

Derek held his gaze for a moment more, reaching up to rub his wrist against Stiles' throat. Stiles refused to purr or some make some equally animalistic sound at the pleased feeling it gave him. Stupid alpha protectiveness shit.

Derek released him, breaking his gaze and taking his wrist away from Stiles.

"Go break something, test out your powers." Derek said, and Stiles looked around. He ran out of the room with Derek following, his mind set on the dinning tables he and Derek never used.

They preferred to sit on the kitchen stools with coffee in hand to watch the world wake up.

"Oh _fuck no_." Derek said, grabbing Stiles and dragging him towards the door when he saw Stiles' intent. "You ain't breaking _my_ shit. We are in a semi-abandoned industrial district, go break some old machinery or something."

Stiles pouted. The dining set didn't even match the colour scheme of Derek house. Stiles wanted to break it since Derek told him it was a gift from Peter.

Oh well.

Derek dragged him by the collar like a pup over to some abandoned factory nearby. The layout was similar to Derek's home-ified loft thingo, with high ceilings and empty spaces. But the place was littered with existing haphazardly placed roof beams and empty dusty boxes all over the ground.

Derek let him go and Stiles ran, pouncing on a box.

Derek watched with a small smile on his face as Stiles ran around like a excited child, jumping from box to box yelling "The grounds Lava!" And "come on Derek, this is fun!"

Stiles climbed up into the haphazard roof beams, adrenaline running through him as he jumped from beam to beam, swinging around the vertical ones and jumping over the horizontal ones.

He laughed at the ease of his movements, the comforting burn in his muscles and the strength of his bones. He knew he could break the things around him. He could crack the beams he danced across or make this whole structure fall to the ground.

He felt _invincible_.

And what made it even better was knowing he could, but not doing it. He knew full well he could destroy anything in this room, but he chose not to. He had the power, the control he desired his entire life. He chose to use this power the way he wanted it to be used.

The shift didn't control him.

He controlled _it_.

He sat on one of the horizontal beams, staring down at Derek below. The man stood near the entrance, arms crossed over his chest with a small smile on his face.

"Wanna trust fall?" Stiles asked, swinging his legs in the open air. Derek frowned at him.

"That's not very smart, Stiles. Look how high up you are." He admonished. Stiles pouted.

"...I'm gonna do it." Stiles said a moment later, leaning back.

"No you most definitely are not." Derek said. Stiles grinned daringly. "I'm not going to catch you, Stiles" Derek warned. Stiles just tilted his head to the side and looked at Derek knowingly.

"Yes you will." He smiled...and let go.

Stiles plummeted through the open air, the wind rushing past him. But despite his fall, he felt weightless. Free.

He ignored his heart pumping furiously in his chest, screaming as he fell and made no effort to stop his fall. He ignored it because his werewolf body would heal almost instantly anyway. He just relaxed his muscles, free falling towards the hard concrete.

And Derek caught him.

The rushing wind was replaced by warm arms, holding him weightlessly. Derek absorbed the shock of Stiles' fall effortlessly, and Stiles decided he had to learn how to do that. But, Stiles knew the strength Derek had and he now possessed. Derek could easily crush him like this.

But like Stiles, he chose not to.

"For somebody so smart you are awfully stupid." Derek said, holding him now twenty meters from where he stood four seconds ago. Derek ran to catch him. Stiles grinned, laying in his arms choosing to be a little shit. Where was the lie?

"Since when has that been news?" He teased, letting Derek deal with his body weight.

Derek sighed, heaving his body so Stiles flipped over Derek's shoulder heavily.

"Hey!" Stiles pouted, now faced with the small of Derek's back.

"Enough play time for you." Derek said, walking towards the entrance and away from the semi-destruction.

And Stiles just laughed as Derek carried him home.

 

.....

 

"Look at this bad boy!" Stiles said, showing Scott the scar on his thigh from where a certain person stabbed him. Scott and Kira were having a housewarming party, officially. Not like everyone here hadn't seen it before.

The gathering could only be called a party by the smallest of standards, because it was just Kira, Scott, Stiles, Lydia and Derek.

But it suited them just fine.

And besides, it was just an excuse to announce Scott and Kira had become a thing...Like _nobody_ saw that coming. Stiles had dubbed them ' _Scira'_. The other three laughed, but Derek hadn't understood it's meaning. Stiles patted him on the head and called him old.

"You look so badass bro." Scott laughed.

They high-fived.

Derek smiled, watching them from the kitchen counter.

"So, Derek. How's life?" Lydia said, as Kira handed him and Lydia a coffee before sitting down across from them. He sipped it, and it was nice. But it wasn't like the ones Stiles made.

Stiles had been adamant about repaying the coffee favours Derek had been giving him in the past few months. Derek had taught him how to use the machine, and since then there was always a steaming hot cup when he woke up.

"It's.." Derek hadn't really thought about it. But, now...

He looked over at Stiles, smiling and talking expressively with Scott, light shining in his intelligent eyes.

He was...happy.

And he hadn't felt like this since his family died.

"It's _fantastic_." He said, turning to smile at the two women. Lydia smiled knowingly, and Kira didn't even look stunned by his statement, sipping her coffee with a mischievous light in the corner of her eye. Derek wondered how much Stiles had influenced that.

"Well, you know that if you hurt him I'll kill you, yes?" Derek frowned, but then her eyes shined orange over the edge of her coffee cup.

"Kitsune." Derek stated, why hadn't he noticed before? Kira smiled, eyes returning to their normal colour as she leant back in her seat. He looked at Lydia, and the redhead just smiled. Of course she knew.

"Haven't ever wondered why the alphas didn't try to attack Stiles at home?" Lydia asked. Derek frowned. Kira had been protecting Stiles?

"Wolves aren't very fond of foxes." Kira answered, sipping her coffee.

Derek shut down the urge to run up and hug her. Kira just tiled her head, seemingly knowing his feelings. Derek pretended he wasn't so transparent.

"So, are you going to promise me you will never be an idiot or do I have to kill you now?" Kira said, with a bright smile like she wasn't suggesting his death.

"I promise."

"Good, I didn't want blood on my new furniture anyway." She smiled.

Stiles laughter echoed from behind them.

And Derek smiled back.

 

.....

 

Derek opened his eyes.

It was Friday, thank god.

He sat up in bed with almost no sound, pushing the covers from his shirtless frame. It was half past six, and the sun was already rising.

And that itself told him Stiles was awake.

Derek didn't bother dressing despite the cool fall weather. The sun would be warm enough to start his day.

He padded over his carpet and out into the hall. He made sure to keep his footsteps quiet on the hardwood as he walked down the hall, going to the archway that opened into the living room and kitchen.

Stiles was sitting on the counter wrapped up in a blanket, facing away from him and watching the sun rise in the sky. The window let in the warm light, and it spilled over his still frame.

Stream from his coffee rose in delicate waves, catching the light in their water particles. Derek stayed quiet, observing his wolf. The light also caught the fluff of his blanket, curled around him and spilling onto the ground like a queen's mantle. It danced over his sleep mussed hair and lightened the lone strands to a golden blonde.

Derek watched Stiles bask in the light for a moment more, staying silent in the archway.

But then he joined the young man, grabbing the mug from the counter and sitting down beside him on the other stool.

He leant against the counter, sipping his coffee. Stiles didn't say anything, not even moving from his still position as his eyes stayed focused on the light slowly crawling across the horizon and spilling into the city.

They both sat, still and quiet.

...Watching the world wake up.

 

.....

 

"Where'd the remote go?" Stiles asked, sitting curled up on the couch in the living room. Derek came back from work only three minutes and twenty seven seconds ago and Stiles was already getting him to do stuff for him.

And Derek thought he was the alpha here.

"Get off your butt and find it." Derek said, at normal volume from his bedroom. He tugged his tie off his neck, but the smooth sound of the silk sliding did not muffle the sound of a discontented growl from the living room.

"Don't growl at me, pup. You are only like a month old." Derek tsked. Stiles muttered under his breath.

"I'm twelve now mom, I can do what I want."

And Derek couldn't help the laugh that climbed it's way from deep in his chest.

"Now, find me the remote." Stiles commanded as Derek's laughter receded and the man just smiled, walking from his room to find the remote for Stiles.

...He found it under Stiles' butt.

And Stiles did nothing but laugh at him the entire time.

 

.....

 

Stiles was not perfect.

He still woke up screaming sometimes. Still felt cold hands on his body and claws in his eyes. Sometimes he woke up to darkness, sure that it was all a dream and he was still blind. But then there was Derek, running into his room and turning on the soft lights.

And Derek held him until he fell asleep.

He wasn't perfect, wasn't the way he once was: He would never be again. He would never truly be completely fine. But, when those arms were around him, grounding him with their warmth...

He _knew_ that this was enough for him.

 

.....

_One year later_

.....

 

Kira was dancing on stage. Beautiful, graceful and wonderful. The horrible bruises had long faded from her skin.

She fought the darkness and she _won_.

Now she was on stage in front on hundreds of people.

...And she was so beautiful.

They had been faced with darkness. Derek, Stiles, Scott, Kira. They had all been faced with darkness and death.

But they came out on top.

Derek was CEO of a major company, ensuring that his family's legacy lived on. Scott had asked Kira to be his girlfriend, slowly letting Allison go and moving on towards life again. Stiles had been tortured and he'd been destroyed. But he'd healed. He got up again.

Kira had been torn down. She'd had her self esteem trashed and her body bruised by somebody she thought loved her.

He was in jail in a orange jumpsuit. And she was on stage in a beautiful white ballerina gown.

Dressed in sequins and silk, hair sparkling with the diamonds pinned into her bun. Her dress shone with every turn of her silk wrapped feet.

She glowed in the lights. She was iridescent. Extraterrestrial. She danced like gravity couldn't hold her, like _nothing_ could hold her anymore. She was flying through the air with more grace and beauty than he'd ever seen in his life. Kira was amongst the stars, ascending far beyond darkness and pain.

...Stiles couldn't be more proud.

When the dance finished and the orchestral sung their final note: Stiles stood with the masses, applauding furiously with tears in his eyes. Kira breathed heavily on stage from her curtsy, and her eyes sought his.

Their eyes met, and Stiles smiled brighter than he had in his entire life.

Because she'd fought the darkness.

...And she had become the light.

 

.....

 

The world was cruel. So very cruel.

But Stiles sat in the warm wind on a bench in Central Park, cradling Derek's face in his hands and watching his eyes shine a brilliant, supernatural blue. The setting sun danced over the city's buildings and trees, catching his beautiful eyes and illuminating his face.

Stiles could see the world now, reflected in the bright blue of Derek's eyes. It was cruel and unforgiving. Cold and harsh. He could see darkness and flames, blood and death.

But...he could also see the wind rustling through trees, and the oceans crashing waves. The birds and the life that this planet _thrived_ with. He could see its cruelty, and knew what it did to so many. But, he could _see_ in the reflections of Derek's eyes. He saw, and he _knew_.

The world was cruel. Harsh, strange...dark.

...But it was also very beautiful.

 

_~Fin_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all folks!
> 
> Thankyou so much for sticking with me throughout this. I'm glad you liked it, since your comments inspired me to write. This story has followed me through most of this year, and help me through my exams and tests by being a good source of stress release and artistic flow. Thanks so much for reading, kudos-ing and commenting. I freaking love you all to bits.
> 
> I also was asked out last night, and had my first kiss. He's adorbs and smart goddamn. Life is gooood.
> 
> Any suggestions for new stories like this or completely different that you might like me to write, feel free to leave them below~
> 
> Much love! 
> 
> God Bless,  
> SephrinaRose


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